Saradon's Revenge
by Red Bess Rackham
Summary: He was beaten once before, and he's not going to let it happen again. She's going to marry Will, no matter what the man from Florin does. Will has vowed to do anything to keep her from danger. And now everything has been put into jeopardy. Complete.
1. Saradon

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the rights to Pirates of the Caribbean, I don't own the rights to The Princess Bride. I make no money.

**A/n**: As one of my earliest stories, I knew this was pretty poorly written, especially at first, and was reminded of that very fact recently by reviewer Sparrabeth (thank you!!!). I came to take a look and realized that it indeed was pretty rough. So I am now working it through, fixing it up a bit, without changing big things/messing with the plot or anything. I took into account all the crits from the reviews I've gotten in the past and will be using those to help me fix it up. Hopefully it will be a better read from here on. ;D Lastly, this story takes place several months after _Curse of the Black Pearl_ and therefore basically disregards DMC and AWE, and in the Princess Bride timeline is several years since the end where Humperdink is left tied up in that chair. _-Aug '09_

_(Aug 7 '09: Chapters 1-5 edited.)  
_

* * *

**Saradon's Revenge**

**Saradon**

Will Turner stood on a small rock formation, jutting out towards the sea. The light breeze slightly ruffled his hair, most of which was pulled back in a loose ponytail. He took a deep breath, letting the salty air into his lungs. A few seagulls cried over head, and then moved on as he watched ships leave and arrive at the various docks. He wished one of those ships was Captain Jack, as he found himself missing his pirate friend.

It hadn't been so several months ago. It was only after a long series of events that Will had ever become friends with the pirate and that included hating Jack every minute for a long time before the pirate saved his life a couple of times. His thoughts turned away from Jack and to the fair Elizabeth Swann. Her image ran through his mind and he smiled. How lucky he was that she loved him back, especially after so many years of being the poor blacksmith who pined for the Governor's daughter. He supposed he could thank Jack for that - if Jack hadn't have come to Port Royal and set in motion a strange set of events involving cursed pirates, Elizabeth may have gone along and married Norrington like her father wanted her to. He never would've guessed that he would now be owing his life (and love life) to a _pirate_, of all things.

As his thoughts continued along the path of the lovely Elizabeth, Will's eye caught on a very regal looking ship slowly pulling into the dock. Curious as to its origins, Will pulled out his pocket telescope for a closer look. Flags bearing the colors red, blue, gray and a strange gold animal hung loosely over the sides and from the mast. Will didn't recognize the ships flags at all.

He looked over the crew, and they all looked rather ordinary - not pirates, as far as he could tell. There were many soldiers or guards posted all over the ship. Will assumed the Captain or a guest on the ship was of rather high rank or importance to necessitate all the protection.

As ramps were placed leading up to the ship and ropes tied down to secure the ship, a tall man dressed in a very strange outfit stepped forward, with his hands on his hips. His robe-like outfit came to his knees, and swayed like a skirt when he walked. He wore leggings underneath covering his legs and black boots going up to just past his calves. The man had short dark brown curly hair, a very defined and tan face, and hard dark eyes. Will could tell this was a man on a mission.

Will watched closely with his telescope, intrigued by this important man with the fierce, determined gait. The man walked quickly and determinedly down the ramp, flanked by five or six soldiers. The ship's crew stayed aboard the ship, carrying out their usual duties, with a handful of soldiers staying behind to monitor the ship. The man stopped to speak with the Dock Master and did not smile while they spoke. The Dock Master looked concerned and somewhat flustered, then hastily pointed up towards the hill.

Will raised his eyebrow slightly. The only people who lived on top of the hill were the Swanns. He immediately wondered what the man in red wanted from them, but decided he must be some far off dignitary here to meet with the Governor. Still, he was very curious about the man and decided he perhaps ought to pay a visit to Elizabeth - conveniently at the same time as the man in red, of course.

* * *

Elizabeth Swann was dressing in a lovely yellow and green dress while Molly her maid chatted away animatedly on the other side of the dressing screen. Molly asked if Elizabeth would be wearing a corset today and she laughed.

"Not if I want to breathe, thank you very much." She said.

Molly clucked disapprovingly. "Ev'ryone is wearin' 'em, mam."

"Everyone but me." Elizabeth insisted.

She emerged from behind the dressing screen so that Molly could help her do up the back of her dress and do her hair. She gazed out her window and as she was looking out across Port Royal towards the ocean, she noticed a line of soldiers in unfamiliar colors approaching the gate below. She wondered what guest her father had coming today and was surprised he hadn't mentioned it. Usually when her father had some important guest coming, the staff was doubled to make the house extra spotless and perfect, and she was required to look extra special, especially if it was a suitor for her. They didn't come often, but they did come. She was soon to be engaged to Will Turner, however, so the suitors would stop altogether as soon as word spread that she was engaged.

Molly left to get fresh sheets for the bed and some hair accessories for Elizabeth's hair and Elizabeth approached the window to get a better look. There was a man dressed in red at the front of the group of soldiers and he was walking with intensity. Abruptly he looked up and saw her and she felt an unexpected jolt at the look in his eye. It was strange and dark - she couldn't explain or identify it. She immediately forgot about it, however, as he looked away and continued on towards the front door and Elizabeth spotted Will's unmistakable figure coming up the walk in the distance, some way behind the soldiers. She grinned, her heart lifting in her chest at the prospect of seeing him.

Molly swished back into the room at that moment, carrying the sheets and a basket of brushes and pins. "'Ere we are, mam." she smiled brightly and set the sheets down on the bed to be changed later. She gestured to the chair in front of the vanity where Elizabeth proceeded to sit and Molly got right to work doing up Elizabeth's hair.

"Do you know if my father was expecting anyone today?" Elizabeth asked. If he wasn't a suitor, that may explain why her father had forgotten to tell her specifically about the guest, but Molly would know.

"If 'e is, 'e 'asn't told any of us, mam." Molly answered.

"Hmm."

Downstairs she heard voices and grew more curious about the mysterious man in red who was paying her father a surprise visit. She urged Molly to hurry with her hair so she could investigate. The voices faded and she knew that they'd moved to the drawing room.

"Stop wigglin', mam, I'm nearly done!" Molly chided as Elizabeth fidgeted and strained to hear what was going on downstairs.

Finally Molly was finished with Elizabeth's hair and makeup. Elizabeth hurried out of her room and quietly made her way downstairs to try and learn who the man was. She heard voices floating down the hall and was able to catch snatches of what they were saying until she she was close enough to hear properly.

"Well, you see, there's... ah, sort of a... directory."

"A _directory_? You must be joking, sir!" said her father.

"I am not," the unfamiliar voice laughed. "But back to the issue at hand."

"Of course."

"She would be extremely well taken care of. My father left me an extremely generous living, as well as... well, the entire country."

Her father laughed. "Yes, I'd say that is very generous." A pause. "She is... well, she is soon to be promised to another man, I regret to inform you."

Elizabeth froze where she was standing. This man sounded like a suitor. Was her father actually negotiating with him?

"I understand, Governor, yes. But I have come _all_ the way from Florin, as a King, in search of your daughter's hand. Surely any father wants to best for his daughter? I doubt you could do much better than a King of another country."

The man's words were smooth and his tone persuasive. Elizabeth's heart began thumping in her chest. She wasn't officially engaged to Will yet and she knew her father still disapproved of Will's lack of finances, even though he'd warmed greatly to having Will has a son-in-law over the past few months. Would her father really give in to the stranger's demands?

"This is really something we perhaps ought to be discussing with Elizabeth..." her father began unsurely.

"Of course, Governor. I thought it proper to ask your permission first before asking hers."

The Governor asked a servant to fetch Elizabeth from upstairs, so she backed up the hallway quickly and pretended to be coming that way just at that moment when a servant intercepted her. She pretended not have heard a thing as she was brought in to the room and the stranger greeted her with a wide, charming smile and a low bow.

"Elizabeth, this is King Saradon of Florin and he's traveled a _great_ distance to speak with you." She didn't miss the tone of her father's voice - he was impressed by the visitor and was demanding Elizabeth be polite and social. She wondered what had been said between the two men that she had not overheard.

She curtsied and allowed Saradon to kiss her hand. "I am not disappointed," he said. "I was told of your captivating beauty."

"Thank you sir, you flatter me." She put on an easy smile though she didn't feel much like smiling. "What is it that you've come to speak to me about?"

"Miss Swann, you would do me a great honor if you would accept my hand in marriage. I've just spoken to your father and he wanted to know how you felt about such an arrangement."

Elizabeth stared, trying desperately to find the right words for such a situation. How did she pointedly refuse in a polite way? "Sir, I appreciate the distance you've come, but I regret that I must decline your offer. I am soon to be engaged to someone else."

"Yes... your father mentioned that." Saradon shifted slightly and Elizabeth saw something flash in his eyes. He'd put on a warm mask for them, but now her mind darted back to the oddly cold and dark look she'd seen on his face when he'd seen her standing in her window upstairs. "I do ask you to reconsider. I don't take disappointment well." He seemed very put out that she'd so easily refused his charm and request.

"I am sorry." She said.

Saradon cleared his throat slightly and more warmth seemed to disappear from his mask. "You do realize, Miss Swann, that you would _Queen_ in Florin. I don't think you could get a better offer anywhere else."

Elizabeth stiffened, not appreciating his tone. "I do very well, thank you."

The Governor turned to Elizabeth. "A King is a far cry from a blacksmith, darling, I must agree."

She snapped her gaze to her father. "You know how I feel about Will. Excuse me if he is more important to me than wealth."

Her father looked rightfully a bit ashamed but that didn't stop him from adding pleadingly, "We just ask you think about it, dear. That's all."

Elizabeth was about to reply angrily when there was some scuffling and yelling coming from the foyer. They all looked towards the door as three soldiers entered, two struggling to hold onto the man thrashing in their grip. Two of the Swanns' servants were behind the soldiers looking flustered and frightened. They all started talking at once and Elizabeth gasped when she realized the man being held by the soldiers was Will.

The Governor silenced everyone and then asked, "What in _heaven's_ name - !"

"You asked us to stop anyone from talking to the lady, sir." One of the soldiers said to Saradon.

"He's a regular guest!" one of the servants shouted. "He's here to see Miss Swann - he's her - "

"My soon-to-be-fiance." Elizabeth cut in coldly. "Release him at once."

The soldiers traded unsure glances until Saradon gave them a curt nod. They tossed Will forward onto the floor.

"What is the meaning of this?" The Governor demanded.

"Apologies, Governor." Saradon inclined his head slightly. "I merely wished to have an uninterrupted audience with Miss Swann. I was unaware that a guest of such... poor standing would be admitted into your household. My men were asked to detain anyone who didn't meet... certain standards." He cast a disapproving glare at Will who was brushing himself off and moving to stand beside Elizabeth.

The Governor didn't seem to know whether to be offended or agree with Saradon. Elizabeth, on the other hand, had had quite enough and was thoroughly outraged by the treatment of Will.

"Sir, thank you for your visit but I think you have _quite_ overstayed your welcome." She snapped, barely maintaining her composure. "Please leave at once."

"I assume this is your blacksmith?" said Saradon disgustedly, ignoring Elizabeth's dismissal of him. "What riff-raff company you allow your daughter to keep, Governor. If she were allowed to accompany me back to Florin, I can promise she would only run in the most fashionable and well-off of social circles."

Will's fists clenched but Elizabeth swiftly put a warning hand on his arm. She silently asked him to do nothing and he complied with great difficulty.

"I would've thought any decent lady would never have passed up a chance to be Queen." Saradon continued smoothly. "Nor any father have let his daughter decline such a magnificent offer." He smiled though there was absolutely no warmth to it. "I do wish you would change your mind, Miss Swann. You may well regret it if you do not."

Elizabeth managed a tight smile back. "Thank you, but I've made my decision."

Saradon's face colored with anger and Elizabeth saw that _something_ flash in his eyes again. She shivered and Will moved a step closer to her as if to further drive the point home that Elizabeth was most definitely not going anywhere.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." Saradon growled in a deep and dangerous voice. "I _don't_ take disappointment _well_."

After a moment where the Governor nor Elizabeth showed any sign of having anything further to say, Saradon gave a short, curt bow, snapped his fingers and with a mighty swish of his red cape, he exited the Governor's house, followed by his soldiers.

* * *

"Elizabeth," the Governor began once Saradon had left.

"Father," Elizabeth stopped him. "Don't."

"_Queen_, Elizabeth! Just think about it, darling. Consider it, just for moment." He pressed.

Will cleared his throat slightly and the Governor flushed, as he'd quite forgotten Will was in the room. Elizabeth glared heatedly at her father.

"I don't believe you. Is wealth all that matters to you? Does my happiness count for nothing?"

"Elizabeth..."

She turned on her heel and hurried from the room. She didn't stop until she'd made it to the other side of the house and leaned against the rails of the balcony, overlooking another side of Port Royal. She dried her eyes with the palm of her hand and felt one hundred times better and calmer when she felt Will's comforting hands on her shoulders.

"Alright?" he asked.

She sighed and leaned into him. "Now I am."

They stayed like that for some time, watching the sun set in the distance until Elizabeth finally broke the silence.

"Why me?" she asked quietly. "Why did he come all this way, merely on someone's word that I was lovely to look at and probably available? Why was he so intent on not taking no for an answer?"

"I should think that's quite obvious." Will answered.

Elizabeth turned to face him, her features questioning.

"I'd cross the world for you ten times over. Apparently I'm not the only one."

She smiled and kissed him softly.

"You know, your father would likely be extremely displeased to know that we're currently unchaperoned." Will whispered against her lips.

"Let him be displeased."

* * *

Saradon stood at the bow his ship, silently fuming. He hadn't truly expected it to be easy - it never was - but he'd certainly hoped. He had, however, thought he'd have at least been able to persuade her father enough that he order her to accompany him. He had not expected to fail so completely.

He _would_ find a way. This wasn't like last time. He wasn't the same person - he had learned from his mistakes and he'd become hardened. He'd take care of that blacksmith, he'd come back for her and he would not be stopped. He didn't care how drastic his measures had to be. He'd messed up his chance at war with Guilder last time - that foul Westley character and his precious Buttercup had seen to that - but not this time.

_No, not this time,_ Saradon thought.

With a deep frown, he let himself remember the moment when everything had changed. After Westley had rescued Buttercup and made a complete fool of the cowardly Humperdink, Humperdink's father had died, passing on the title of King. He'd changed his name when he'd received the crown to show that he was no longer the same person. Humperdink was a hunter, a tracker and a little coward. Saradon was a man with no mercy, the _best_ hunter and now King. Everyone regarded those two parts of his life as separately as the two separate names.

The point was that Saradon had learned wisely from his past: tie up all the loose ends and do the job yourself.

And that's exactly what he intended to do.

* * *

**A/n:** Two things. First, the actor who plays Humperdink in Princess Bride's real name is Chris Sarandon, which is where I got the idea for Saradon (note no 'n' in Saradon). Secondly, the "directory" that Humperdink is referring to is a throwback to the Princess Bride book which opens with talking about a list of all the beautiful women in the world and how Buttercup eventually moves up the list to be number one. Thanks for reading and reviews are like oxygen!


	2. Break In

**A/n:** Long time, no update! Here's the next chapter.

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**Break In  
**

_SMASH!_

Glass shattered all over the floor. Everyone in the household jerked awake and immediately they were all thrown into a panic. Elizabeth heard her father shouting, maids screaming, and more breaking glass.

_No, not another raid!_ she thought, clambering out of bed and throwing on a house coat. She ran to her closet and pulled out a sword from the very back. Her father said sword play was awful and terribly unladylike but after the last raid, she wasn't about to be caught without a sword. She heard more yelling and scuffling and then Molly came bolting into her room, slamming the door behind her.

"What is it?" Elizabeth asked at once.

Breathless and terrified, Molly managed, "The King is back!"

She felt like a rock had just dropped hard in her stomach as Saradon's words seemed to echo before her: _Don't say I didn't warn you._

"What do we do?" Molly wailed.

Elizabeth thought quickly and developed a semblance of a plan. She locked the door as she heard more noise downstairs and footsteps racing up the stairs. She grabbed an armful of clothes and told Molly to get the sheets from the bed. Molly obeyed and ripped the sheets from her bed, then together they ran into the room connecting to the bedroom. Elizabeth shut and locked the connecting door, tossed the sword she'd grabbed aside and steadied the trembling Molly.

"S'like them pirates all ov'r ag'n!" Molly cried.

"Listen to me." said Elizabeth holding Molly's shoulders tightly. "Take the servant's entrance and go through the servant passageways to the basement, and leave through the cellar door. You'll have to run through the brush and cross the river after that. Run to the fort and alert Commodore Norrington. _Go!_"

Molly whined and sobbed but hurried to do what she was told, fearing for her and her lady's life. She dropped the sheets on the floor and swiftly disappeared out the servant's entrance.

Elizabeth furiously tied sheets and clothes together as she heard pounding on her bedroom door. She used the curtains in the powder room she was in as well, joining them to the sheets and clothes. With a mighty crash, she knew her bedroom door had been broken down.

"Open this door!" someone shouted, banging hard on the connecting door between the powder room and Elizabeth's bedroom.

She drooped her make-shirt rope for a moment and struggled to inch the heavy bench from beside the door to in front of it, buying herself a few more seconds as they pounded harder.

"No harm will come to this household if you open this door _now_!"

She prayed her knots would hold as she tied one end of her rope to the foot of the antique dresser by the window and threw the other end over the sill.

"All we want is Miss Swann - open this door or we'll break it down!"

She started down her makeshift rope, struggling to hold on and not slide too quickly. She could feel the fabrics stretching and straining and then realized that her rope was not long enough: there was a sizable drop from the end of her rope to the ground.

"You were warned!"

_BANG!_

_

* * *

_Elizabeth hung for a split second at the end of her rope, as far down as she could, took a deep breath and then let go. She landed painfully wrong on her ankle, but would not be stopped by it. There was no time. She raced as fast her feet (and throbbing ankle) would carry her across the wet ground and down into the brush and trees at the side of the house. She tripped repeatedly which made her ankle hurt worse, but there was no slowing down. Slowing down meant getting caught by Saradon and his men. That was not an option.

* * *

The connecting door blasted apart at the handle where it'd been shot. The soldiers slammed their bodies into the door several more times before they were able to open the door and move the bench enough to enter the powder room. They ran to the twisted sheets hanging out the window and looked down but saw nothing. They searched the room thoroughly and the bedroom but came up empty. Two soldiers discovered the servant's entrance and hurried down it, suspecting the girl must have gone that way.

* * *

In the foyer, being held by two more of Saradon's soldiers, the Governor continued to yell fruitlessly.

"Leave her be! You are all under arrest for breaking and entering!"

Saradon stood by coolly examining his fingernails and ignoring the Governor's protests. The Swanns' servants had also been restrained and they stood in muted horror. More crashes and shouts sounded throughout the house as the rest of Saradon's men searched and forced entry to any locked room.

Moments later, Commodore Norrington and several of his men came rushing in through the wide open doors.

"Governor! What's happening!? Where's Elizabeth?" Norrington said quickly, taking in the sight of Governor's household trashed, the Governor himself and most of his servants all in their sleeping clothes being held by soldiers not bearing the colors of Port Royal. He and his men raised their guns at once, Norrington training his on the regal man in red.

"It's Saradon!" The Governor shouted. "He's come to take Elizabeth!"

All at once, two soldiers who'd been searching upstairs came barreling down reporting that they'd found nothing, while Saradon waved at another one of his men in the foyer who's gun was trained Norrington and then several of the female servants screamed. Shots rang out and all hell broke loose. It was absolute chaos as servants ducked for cover and the braver ones grabbed household objects to try and aid Norrington's men in the fight. Smoke filled the foyer from the gunshots and the Governor crawled on his hands and knees into the next room, bleeding from a graze on his right shoulder. Saradon slipped out of the room in the confusion and while Norrington noticed, he was occupied in a fist fight with one of Saradon's men and couldn't chase him.

The fight spread to the kitchen and several other rooms in the house. Norrington, who's gun had run out of ammo and been wrestled away from him some time ago, was resorting to anything he could get his hands on. He grabbed pots and pans and threw them at the lead soldier he was fighting. The soldier ducked and dodged, grabbed a carving knife and lunged at Norrington who barely made it out of the way in time. They wrestled for the knife, tumbling around on the floor until Norrington managed to get a hold of it. The soldier pushed him away with a hefty shove before Norrington had a chance to use the knife and they both scrambled to their feet.

Servants, a few of Saradon's men and a few of Norrington's men moved their respective battles to the kitchen too, causing a distraction that the lead soldier took advantage of. He dove at Norrington who didn't move as fast this time and missed that the other man had scooped up a heavy frying pan from the floor. The frying pan came at Norrington's face as he brought up the carving knife and though he was knocked out cold on impact, the knife sliced into the gut of the soldier.

There was a sharp whistle heard somehow over the clanking and shouting, and Saradon's men stopped what they were doing and began a full retreat back to the foyer. The bleeding soldier sneered that he didn't have time to finish off Norrington and limped after his fellow men.

"She's gone." Saradon said as his men rushed into the foyer, some seriously injured and some not. "Let's go." He had to jump over the overturned table and dodge the arms of the soldier pinned half underneath, but then he was out, running briskly down to the Swanns' gate, his men hurrying behind him.

* * *

Elizabeth crashed through the trees, a terrible stitch in her side growing. Branches scratched her face and tangled her hair. Thistles and bushes ripped at her nightgown and scraped her legs. Rocks and sharp fallen sticks gauged her throbbing bare feet. She tripped on a root and was pitched straight down into a deep mud puddle. And still there was no stopping. Adrenaline pulsed through her and she didn't know if Saradon's men were taking chase or not, but she didn't want to find out.

Her ankle screamed in pain as she hoisted herself up and continued on. The stitch, her gathering scrapes and bruises and her ankle slowed her progress but she was determined not to stop. Not until she reached her destination.

* * *

**A/n:** Thanks for reading! Reviews are like oxygen. :D

(Note: This version of this chapter has a significant amount more action than the previous version and gives you another glimpse at how Saradon is no longer like Humperdink. _-Aug '09_)


	3. Hidden Swann

**A/n:** This is rather huge chapter, but there was no way to make it smaller. You'll see when you read it. Enjoy!

**

* * *

**

**Hidden Swann  
**

Will stretched and moved his neck around in circles to ease the strain of looking down at his work for too many hours. He'd been working non-stop on a special sword for a rich out-of-towner, named Thomas Fullerbutton. Mr. Fullerbutton was supposedly an older man with a taste for nice swords, although Will had never met him. He'd gotten half of his payment, instructions on what Mr. Fullerbutton would like, and a smile from a friend of Fullerbutton's who'd dropped by yesterday.

Will guessed it was about two in the morning and probably time to call it quits for the night. He'd continue first thing in the morning.

He held up what he had done so far. The sword had twisty gold surrounding the jewel encrusted handle. Mr. Fullerbutton's friend had given Will the jewels, and asked him to meld them into the handle if he could. Will could and did, though it'd been quite a trickier process than he would've expected, laying them out exactly as he'd been asked to. He figured it would probably take him a week or two to fine tune the lovely sword. He only wished he could keep this sword for himself, because it really was one of his finer swords. Especially since his own sword was getting to be rather shabby.

He heard some yelling, but it was quite far away sounding, and as always, Will assumed it was coming from the local bar.

He yawned and his eyelids drooped. "Definitely time for bed." he mumbled to himself. He locked up Mr. Fullerbutton's fine sword, then set about slowly putting out the numerous lanterns around his shop.

Yes, _his_ shop. Mr. Brown, Will's "mentor" had retired shortly after the raid on Port Royal, saying that he needed someplace where there was no excitement, and he could just eat and sleep. So Brown had chosen a location - southern Bermuda - handed the keys and the ownership of the shop to Will and left.

Will blew out the last lantern and headed for the comfort of his bed, his muscles aching and reminding him of just how tired he was. Suddenly, there was pattering just outside his door, and then loud, hurried banging on his door.

"Will! Wake up!" he heard a woman shout and knew who it was immediately. "Help!"

His previous exhaustion forgotten, he jumped to the door, unlatched and opened it as fast as he could. Elizabeth fell in and Will caught her.

"Elizabeth! What - " he started.

"Shut the door, and lock it - quick!"

Will set a panting Elizabeth down on his bed, and did what she said, making extra sure his door was securely locked. Luckily, the area where his bed was located was in a shadowed area of his shop. Anyone looking in could not see his bed from the windows or doors. It was completely shielded from the bright moonlight spilling in through his windows.

"What's wrong? What happened?" He whispered urgently.

Elizabeth's breaths were coming in long shuddering, panting gasps as tears streamed down her cheeks. Will could see, even in the dark, that Elizabeth's hair was frazzled and hanging as though wet, full of random bits of twigs and leaves. Her nightgown and housecoat were dirty and ripped, and then he noticed her bleeding bare feet.

"Are you alright? What _happened?!_" Will asked again as he held her mud-spotted face between his palms.

"Will, he came _back_!"

"Who did?" He demanded.

"The _King_," She cried, shaking all over. "Saradon - he b-b-broke into t-the house, with his m-men and he... T-they b-b-broke d-down my d-door! I t-tied things t-together, and went out the - the window! I ran all the way here, I... I sent Molly to the fort for help and I..." She couldn't continue and started crying heavily.

Will pulled her into a tight embrace, his thoughts racing. "It's alright. You're safe with me now. I won't let anything happen to you."

_What do I do?_ he thought. _Any minute Saradon will figure out where I live and come straight here... and if he doesn't come tonight, how do I keep Elizabeth safe with a man of his power here? And gall! Who is bold enough to attack a Governor's house in the dead of night, not far from an entire fort of armed men?_

She pulled back slightly from his arms. "My... my rope wasn't long enough and I had to jump down. I-I landed all wrong, and it... my ankle..." She shifted and winced.

He reached down and very gently touched her ankle, trying to determine if it was broken or not. "Maybe I'd better light a candle and take a look..." he suggested.

Elizabeth sucked in her breath, trying to ignore the renewed throbbing. "I don't want them - him - to find me..."

"In the back room. It has no windows, but I can hear what's going on in the rest of my shop."

She nodded.

Without asking, He scooped her up in his muscular arms and carried her to the back room. He shut the door behind him with his foot and set her down on a chair in the pitch blackness. He struck a match and lit a candle, then bent down to carefully examine Elizabeth's swollen ankle.

"You ran all the way here on this?" he couldn't stop a smile that was part amusement and part amazement from creeping across his features.

She bit her lip. "I was scared."

He chuckled and she winced in pain as he gingerly checked her ankle a bit more. A moment later, he concluded, "I don't think it's broken. Just badly hurt." He stood. "I'll go get something to wrap it in." He left the room and returned shortly with several strips of cloth. He expertly wrapped up her ankle and tied it off.

"Thank you." she said.

Will moved and sat down on the bed beside her. "You're welcome."

She was still shaken by the night's events and worried about her father but for the moment at least, she felt safe. He wrapped his arm around her and she leaned in to kiss him.

Suddenly, there was yelling in the street outside the shop. Will and Elizabeth jumped at the noise then froze as the voices got louder. They could hear doors being slammed, more voices and then there was a loud pounding on Will's front door.

"It's him!" Elizabeth hissed in panic.

Will put his hand up. "Wait," he whispered. He moved to the door of the back room and listened carefully to what was going on.

"Open this door!" a voice commanded. "Or we will be forced to break it down!"

"It sounds like the soldiers." said Will and glanced around the little room as Elizabeth whimpered. He looked up and got an idea. "Into the rafters, c'mon."

She stood on the bed as best as she could and then he helped her to climb up into the thick rafters.

"Climb to the far corner and lay down." He instructed hurriedly. "It's a perfect hiding place. It's impossible to see unless you're up in the rafters yourself."

"Be careful." she said.

He jumped down, grabbed the lantern and hurried towards the front door. "I'm com- "

Before he got close enough, the door was practically blown apart and splintered all over the floor. Soldiers bearing Saradon's colors ran into Will's home and immediately began tearing it apart. He tried to stop them but they completely ignored him. He bristled as he watched the men over turn a table covered in clean, meticulously laid out tools. The tools clattered to the floor and scattered in different directions through the dirt.

Saradon sauntered in casually after his men.

"Saradon, you have no jurisdiction here." Will said hotly. "How dare you and your men barge into my home in the middle of the night -"

"Oh, but you'll find that I do." said Saradon smoothly. "See, I am a King. And while I not King _here_, I am still a man of high ranking. As high, if not higher, than your Governor. It's one of the great advantages of being royalty - you get to be important wher_ever_ you go."

"That doesn't give you the right to invade our homes! And kidnap an innocent woman! The men at fort - "

"The men at the fort are being quite distracted, I assure you." Saradon smiled nastily at Will's look of shock. "I didn't come unprepared, you know. I have a very large ship, with a second entirely made up of men who were waiting just off shore in case I needed them. And I did."

Will clutched the lantern in his fist tightly, trying desperately to find a way out of this. It was only a matter of time before one of the soldiers ransacking his home found Elizabeth crouching in the corner of the rafters...

"Other houses are being searched, if you're feeling singled out." Saradon added with a sneer. He leaned closer to Will and added in a dangerous whisper, "But I know you have her. And I'm not leaving empty-handed."

"I don't know where she is." Will snapped. "Last I saw her was this afternoon at her house - when she refused you."

Saradon stiffened at the memory and his tone grew instantly ten times more hostile. "Listen blacksmith, you have one chance. I know she's here, I know you're hiding her. Let me at her and I'll spare your life."

"Go ahead and murder me then." Will growled.

Saradon curled his lip, his eyes burning with anger. Will never found out if Saradon was ready to kill him then and there, as right at that moment, a soldier called from the back of the shop.

"Sire!"

Will's stomach dropped. They'd found her.

Saradon smirked and dashed to where his soldier was calling from.

"There, sir!" The soldier was pointing out the back door and down the street where a figure could be seen running.

"After her!" Saradon hollered and pushed Will aside with an unexpected and mighty shove that sent him flying into several overturned chairs. Saradon and the soldiers bolted down the street after the figure.

Will struggled to get up quickly and chase after them, sure the figure was Elizabeth and sure he could somehow fight off the soldiers so Elizabeth could make it to the fort. Before he made it to the door, however, he saw a pair of feet (one with a bandaged ankle) dangle down from the rafters. He ran to help her down, shocked and elated that the shadow fleeing down the street was not her.

"You're alright - they didn't find you!" he said and hugged her tight.

"No, they didn't. I was petrified one of them would climb up and look and I was nearly afraid to breathe."

"Then who are they running after now?"

"Some unlucky soul." Elizabeth said grimly.

"Well, now's our chance. We'll go a different direction, stick to the forest and get to the fort." said Will. "You'll be safe there."

"But what about all the men Saradon said he'd brought with him?" Elizabeth asked as she and Will hurried out of the shop and down the street.

"We'll worry about that when we get there."

As they ran, Elizabeth was made painfully aware of her sore ankle again so Will did his best to carry her or at least take her weight off of it as much as possible. They took as many side roads and alleyways as they could, careful to be quiet and aware but swift. Eventually they were in the forest and nearing the fort. They weren't safe yet, but they were close. They'd gotten this far without getting caught though they'd had to change course or dodge into the bushes several times when they heard footsteps approaching. Will relaxed a tiny bit but didn't let his guard down, holding a sword he'd grabbed from home tight in one hand and Elizabeth's hand in the other.

"Nearly there," he said. After a moment's pause, he added, "We'll get into the Fort and then the Commodore and his men will keep you safe."

"You'll stay with me too, won't you?"

"Of course." He squeezed her hand and kissed her forehead. "I will - "

It happened so quick, Will was almost unable to react. He heard running footsteps and as he stopped talking and turned to look, a man was already colliding with him at full force, his sword went flying from his hand and his other hand was ripped from Elizabeth's. They landed on the ground hard, knocking the wind out of Will and hitting his head hard enough that he saw stars for a moment. Elizabeth screamed, Will and the man wrestled and several more men came running. He belatedly realized they were Saradon's men.

"_Run!_" Will shouted and managed to twist and jam his legs into his attacker's stomach, momentarily throwing him off. He leapt up and started running after Elizabeth as the rest of he soldiers closed the distance through the trees.

Their feet pounded across the ground and Will put all of his energy and adrenaline into making it to the fort. Even if they got close enough, they could scream for help.

They didn't get close enough.

He didn't know what had hit him, but he fell crashing to the ground as something hit him hard in the back. He glimpsed Elizabeth tumbling too and before he barely had a chance to roll over and try to recover, Saradon's men were on top of them. He was dragged to his feet by his collar, choking him and he got hit in the head a couple times as he struggled to get away. Elizabeth hollered for help and he could tell she was putting up a good fight too. The only thing that stopped him was when the cold barrel of a gun was pressed sharply into the side of his neck. Soldiers not holding him worked to roughly bind Will's hands behind his back.

"It's over." said Saradon's voice in his ear. Saradon slowly moved into view and removed the gun from Will's neck but still kept it aimed at Will.

"You _bast-_"

"Tut, tut. Language." Saradon paused and gestured to where several of his soldiers had gagged Elizabeth and were working on binding her hands. "I told you I would not be leaving here empty-handed."

"You still think you'll get away from this? You realize the fort is _right there_ and that they know what you're up to?" said Will. "How do you expect to get out of the harbor?"

"Trust me," Saradon stared at Will with eyes that gleamed coldly and dropped his voice. "We _will_ get away with this. I will not fail this time."

A memory rose to the surface in Saradon's mind - _"Drop... your... sword."_ - and he shoved it away immediately. _That was last time_. He was not that person any longer. He would not fail, he would not show fear...

It was a very short second, but Will saw it. There was a flash of something unreadable in Saradon's eyes. Fear? Uncertainty? Anger? He couldn't tell.

"This time?" Will said. Maybe if he could keep Saradon talking, he could figure out a plan in the meantime. "Why, do you do this often? A King like you, with all your charms and wealth can't keep a wife so you go around to other countries and steal them?"

Saradon came closer, wound up and struck Will hard across the face. "Don't be so cocky." he growled. "You know nothing of what you speak and I would therefore not say such things if I were you."

Blinking against the pain radiating across his skin and in his head, Will glared. "I have no fear of you."

Saradon narrowed his eyes. "You will." He raised the gun in his hand and aimed it at Will's head.

Elizabeth was fighting as best she could to get away and screaming uselessly against her gag. Will wished he could say or do something to comfort her, to save her. As it was, he was about to die. He steeled himself for the shot as Saradon cocked the gun.

Suddenly there was shouting not far away and a flash of torches. People were running down from the fort in the direction of the forest and shouting. Saradon glanced their way.

"It seems we're out of time, blacksmith." He gestured to the men holding Elizabeth, who immediately lifted her struggling form off the ground and did their best to run and hold onto her at the same time. "So long."

He pulled the trigger.

_Click_. Nothing happened. Saradon pulled the trigger again. _Click._ Again. _Click.... click..._

"_Garbage!_" He snapped and tossed the gun away.

The voices and light from the men coming from the fort was rapidly getting louder and closer.

To his own men, he ordered, "Dispose of him!" and hurried after the men carrying Elizabeth.

Will knew this was his chance and immediately started to fight his captors and call for help. All he managed was a sort of strangled yelp before he was kicked in the stomach, thrown to the ground, punched repeatedly across his body, yanked up by his collar and then clubbed on the back of the head especially hard.

After that, he felt nothing, heard nothing, saw nothing.

Just blackness.

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**A/n:** Oh no! What's going to happen!? Is Will dead - or about to be?! Find out soon... Thanks for reading and reviews are immensely appreciated. :D


	4. The Idear

**A/n:** This is a very short chapter, but I promise the next chapter will be longer. Also, this is supposed to come off like Vizzini, Inigo and Fezzik but different. If that makes sense. Or sort of like Horace and Jasper from 101 Dalmatians (there's even a guy name Horace). Mostly just a crew of dunderheads who don't like blood. ;) Enjoy!

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The Idear  
**

"Dispose of 'im, he says. _Dispose_."

Three soldiers of Saradon's stood surrounding an unconscious Will Turner. After Saradon had fled, they'd heard Norrington's men and had likewise high-tailed it, though they'd brought their prisoner along. Now they were situated at the top of a bluff on the far side of town, far from the fort and the docks and trying to decide what to do.

"Like a piece 'o 'is garbage we're just supposed ter toss away somewheres." The first soldier with a gruff voice, Mac, complained. "Like it's our _job_. After all 'is all 'is moanin' that 'e had to do everythin' 'is_self_."

The second soldier, Horace, was securing Will's ankles together and ensuring the blacksmith was still unconscious as the third soldier, Clyde, watched with his arms crossed over his chest.

"I'm not doin' it." Clyde, dark skinned and with a curious Australian accent, said.

Horace stood. "Me either. I didn' sign up fer murderin' innocents."

"Who says 'e's innocent?" Mac grunted. "We do what Saradon says, an' that's that." He aimed his revolver at Will and the other two soldiers looked away. After a second or two, however, he made a frustrated noise and lowered it. "Jus' don' seem right, though."

"I got an idear -" Horace started.

"Idea." Mac corrected automatically as if he'd done it a hundred times already.

"Righ'. Well, wha' if we don' shoot 'im?" Horace suggested hopefully. "Suppose we... wha' if we toss 'im in the drink with the fishies? An' then 'e drowns. Tha' way we don' hafta spill 'is guts."

"Still murderin' someone we know nothin' 'bout." Th Australian said. "Don't even know what he did ta get on Saradon's bad side."

"Don' matter when you're in battle, do it, Clyde?" Mac snapped. "Why the attack 'o conscience?"

Clyde sighed and waved at a few mosquitoes buzzing around his head. "He's unarmed, out cold and tied up. Hardly fair, mate."

"I'm with 'im." said Horace.

"Of _course_ you are, 'orace. Always lookin' to avoid the dirty work." Mac grumbled.

"Jus' sayin' - " Horace began defensively.

"I know wha' you were just sayin'."

"Well, I jus' _thought_ - "

"An' there's your problem! Leave the thinkin' ta me."

"Let 'im alone, mate." Clyde interjected and swatted irritatedly at the gathering mosquitoes. "Let's hurry up. These bugs are gettin' at me."

Mac turned to Clyde. "I don't 'ear you offerin' any suggestions for wha' ta do."

"I don't care! Dump him in the hedges or the water or whatever and let's get to the ship." Clyde smacked his neck. "We'll be long gone by the time he wakes up. What Saradon don't know, won't hurt him."

"If 'e finds out..." Mac started.

"'E won'!" Horace said excitedly. "Like 'e says! We'll be far aways by the time 'e comes to. Great idear - "

"_Idea_." Mac corrected again.

"Right."

Mac didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit because he felt like he was disobeying orders and he said as much to the other two, who were quick to point out that Saradon had not specified _how_ to dispose of him, and had specifically used the word "dispose" and not "kill". So by dumping the unconscious man in the hedges and leaving him there, they were in fact _disposing_ of him. He wouldn't admit it to the other two - who he called "stupid ol' softies" - but he hadn't much liked the idea of just killing some unarmed unconscious man either without a good enough reason, so he was glad for a way out of it.

"Well?" Clyde prompted as he continued to slap his exposed skin and wave his hands at the mosquitoes nearby. They were starting to attack Horace too, who looked more like he was trying to flap his arms and fly away then simply keep some bugs at bay.

Mac frowned. "Alrigh'. But I _mean_ it, you two blokes. _One word _of this gets back to Saradon... an' we're done for."_  
_

"Let's get on with it then!" Clyde grabbed Will's feet.

Horace grabbed Will's upper half, and Mac helped them hoist Will up.

"If Saradon gets wind o' this," said Mac. "An 'e's mad enough tha' 'e wants to commit _bloody murder_, I 'ad _nothin'_ to do with this idear."

"Idea." Clyde and Horace corrected in unison.

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**A/n:** Mostly just fun filler, but we'll get goin' again for real soon. Thanks for reading. Reviews make me happy - spread some happiness today! ;D


	5. All Tied Up

**A/n:** Another sizable chapter! Sorry for the long time in updating. Now you'll get to see what happens to Will... and where is Elizabeth!? Enjoy. :D

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**All Tied Up  
**

Will was suddenly and painfully aware that he was awake. He slowly opened his eyes, which were met with odd blurred images swimming unpleasantly with light. His throbbing head was a mess of muddled thoughts. Something smelled strongly of mud and leaves. He tried to move, but couldn't. His eyes were slowly coming into focus and all he could see was greenery. That's when he realized his face was in the dirt. That would explain the earthy smell.

There was a gag in his mouth and for a instant he was quite unsure as to why he could not bring his wrist up to remove it, until his brain was awake enough to remind him what had happened before he went unconscious. His wrists were tightly tied together behind his back and his ankles were inconveniently tied together as well. There was a sharp pain in his shoulder and his face felt like it was crawling. He rocked back and forth until he was able to roll over more on less onto his back.

_What a situation_. he thought grimly.

He attempted to crane his neck around so that he could see where exactly he was. The best that he could make out was that he was on the ground, behind a thick line of hedges, next to several large trees. He heard no noise except the swish of the trees, the waves of the nearby ocean, and the occasional bird's song. He wondered where he was, how long he'd been there and of course how exactly he was going to get out of his predicament.

He lay there for quite some time, several times attempting to roll himself over or get through he hedges, or just get away from his current position. He tried to get the gag out of his mouth, as it tasted disgusting and was very wet from absorbing all his saliva. His throat was wretchedly dry, and he had no more spit to swallow. He ran through all kinds of plans in his head to free himself, he attempted most of them, but none worked.

He didn't know how long he'd been there and didn't have any concept of how much longer he lay there until finally, what must have been hours later, he heard some far-off voices. He couldn't hear what they were saying or even how close they were, but he started to make noise. He only hoped that they found him and that they were not someone looking to finish him off.

"_Hemf!" _Will desperately called through his gag. His voice was quiet and raspy and the gag muffled his voice further. He tried to swallow a few times and managed to call a little louder. "_Heh! Hemf!_ _Hum-muddy! Heeeh!_"

The voices were much closer now and Will tried to call as loud as he could through his gag. The voices stopped.

"Did you 'ear that, sir?" a young voice asked.

"What, son?"

Will flailed and hollered to make sure he was heard. _Over here, please come!_ he shouted in his mind.

"There! In the hedges!" the older voice said and there was a scuffling of branches.

A young boy, no older than twelve, poked his head over top the hedges. "Sir! It's a man! An' 'e's bound!"

"Oh, gracious!"

More scuffling, and then an old man and the young boy appeared at Will's side.

"Undo him then! Quickly!" the old man barked. Immediately the boy set to work on undoing Will's bound ankles. The old man pulled off Will's gag and pulled a small brown canteen from his belt. "Drink up, son." he said and helped Will get a drink.

The cool water slid down his ravaged throat easily, instantly soothing it. He drank as much as he could before the old man gently pulled it away.

The boy undid Will's wrist ties and then sat down wide-eyed and eager to hear what happened.

"What's your name, son?" The old man asked.

"Will Turner." Will answered readily.

The old man raised a bushy white eyebrow. "Really? That's very interesting..." he glanced at the boy, then turned his eyes back to Will. "I'm Sir Thomas Fullerbutton."

Will's eyes widened slightly. This was the man he was making the magnificent sword for!

"And you, are my blacksmith, are you not?" Mr. Fullerbutton's smile twinkled in his deep blue eyes.

Will nodded, amazed at how their meeting was coming about.

"This is my apprentice, Harry." Mr. Fullerbutton said, gesturing to the boy.

"Pleased to meetcha, Mr. Turner, sir!" Harry shook hands with Will excitedly. He had short chestnut hair and sparkling green-blue eyes. "Pardon for askin', Mr. Turner, sir, but wha' 'appened to you?"

"Hush, Harry! He shall tell when he feels he should." The old man said sharply, not wanting Will to be offended.

"Not at all." Will smiled reassuringly. "He's free to ask all he wants." He took a deep breath and quelled the further protests from Mr. Fullerbutton before he began.

He gave them the story, but only briefly. He summarized how the King Saradon had come to make Elizabeth his bride, but that she was already in love with Will, and that they were planning to get married. The King was relentless and had kidnapped her. Saradon's men had tied him up like this, and Will ended with,

"I was quite sure he or his men were going to kill me, so I am actually quite lucky and pleasantly surprised to be looking into your faces, in more ways than one."

Mr. Fullerbutton cracked another kindly old man smile, this one more full of sympathy and sadness. "My young sir, I wish we could help you rectify this sorry situation." He sighed and stood.

Harry stood also, but with a rather thoughtful and slightly confused look on his face. They helped Will up, whose legs felt slightly wobbly. They began to walk back towards the road, around the hedge, when the boy piped up.

"But, we _can_ 'elp Mr. Turner!" he said, excitement bubbling through him.

"How's that, Harry?" Mr. Fullerbutton stopped walking, as did Will.

Harry turned to face Will. "Sir, the King. Did 'e say where 'e was from?"

The blacksmith shook his head. "Not that I recall."

The boy brightened. "_I_ know where 'e's from!"

"How now, Harry?" Mr. Fullerbutton prodded, trying to get his apprentice to explain his thoughts a little faster.

Harry got the hint. "Well, sir, I was walkin' 'mong the docks an' met up with one of them soldiers. I was admirin' the way 'e was dressed and 'e asked me wha' I was starin' at. I tolds 'im, I says, 'I ne'er seen such finely dressed men come to Port Royal', an' 'e tells me its 'cause 'e's accompanyin' a King. I says, 'A King!?' An' 'e tells me tha' the King's name's Saradon an' he came all the way from the country of _Florin_ to get 'imself a girl, see. So I says, I ask 'im who 'e's lookin' for, an' the soldier said he didn' know the lady's name tha' the King was seekin', but she was the second mo' lovely lady in the 'ole world, after a lady by the name 'o Buttercup. Then 'e shuts up, seems to think he said enough, shooes me off, see, so I goes happily off my way."

The old man's face was a mixture of emotions. "Florin?" he said quietly.

"You've heard of it?" Will asked.

"I have indeed. My niece lives there. My niece, in fact, is the very Buttercup the soldier mentioned."

Harry's eyes instantly widened. "The mo' lovely lady in all the world - she's your _niece_?!"

Mr. Fullerbutton smiled slightly. "Yes, no time to tell more. Run to the house and set up my desk. I'll need you to help me write a letter to Buttercup." he gestured for Harry to go, and the boy took off at a run. To Will, he asked, "I have no map, nor a ship to give you, Mr. Turner, but do you know where you could get such things?"

Will thought for a moment. "A map, surely. A ship may present more of a problem."

"It's a start. I can give you directions and I shall write to my niece. She will be expecting your arrival and may be able to help you navigate."

"Thank you sir."

The old man nodded. He regarded Will for a moment and smiled. "How's my sword coming, lad?"

"Well, sir." The blacksmith answered. "It's nearly complete."

"And is it lovely?"

Will chuckled. "Yes sir. It is one of the most impressive swords I've made to date."

Mr. Fullerbutton patted Will's back. "Good, good. Now my boy, go fetch that map you spoke of.

* * *

Elizabeth paced as best as she could in the small room. She had tried to keep track of the time she was spending deep in Saradon's ship, but with no windows or portholes whatsoever she couldn't. Was it day? Night? Morning? Afternoon? Night again? She had no clue.

She wasn't in a prison cell, exactly, but it might as well have been for all she cared. It was basically the same thing: a small, cold, nearly empty room that she was locked into. There was a small cot for sleeping, a cold raggedy-looking chair, a tiny table with a few lit candles on it and a worn-out rug in the center of the room. There were no decorations on the walls, and there was a shimmery blue dress laid out for her on the chair.

Elizabeth was still in her nightgown and robe and refused to change. She had refused to eat, and would have refused to sleep had it not been for the fact that no matter how hard she tried she truly couldn't. She was not going to be the least bit pleasant for Saradon to deal with. If the King was to make her his bride, she'd run away at any chance, or even - if it came to it - take her own life. She shuddered at the option, but if Will really _was_ dead as Saradon had bragged to her, and the King really _was_ going to force her to marry him - well, it was an option.

She sighed and rolled over on the uncomfortable cot. _Nice way to treat your future wife, you evil pig._ she thought angrily, and winced as her ankle throbbed painfully. The least he could have done was let someone look at her ankle. But that would've meant he had some sort of compassion in his body and she was pretty sure there none.

She just hoped and prayed that Will wasn't dead as Saradon claimed, and that he was on his way to rescue her.

_

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**A/n:** Thanks for taking the time to read this story and to review it (hint, hint, wink, wink). ;)


	6. Florin

**A/n:** Next chapter! This isn't a very exciting chapter as its one of those "filler" chapters until I can get to the "exciting" parts, but it contains important set-up stuff. Enjoy!

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**Florin**

Will sprinted as fast as his legs would carry him to the Governor's house. He did not knock, but burst in the door, severely startling the butler standing by to answer the door.

"My word!" he sputtered. "Master Turner!"

Will ignored the doorman and hollered, "Governor! I know where he's taken Elizabeth!"

There was a flurry of footsteps as Elizabeth's maid came running, closely followed by the Governor himself.

The Governor wasted no time on pleasantries. "Where?" he asked at once.

Will gulped some air. "Florin."

The Governor knit his eyebrows together. "Well, that's where the king said he was from. I've never heard of it until before the King's visit - "

"Do you have any kind of map? A large one?"

The Governor nodded. "The one on the study wall. Come."

The pair hurried to the study and they quickly ran their eyes over the map searching for Florin.

"There!" Will found it along the very edge of the map. It would show how to get to the country but he would be quite on his own after that. He wasn't sure what scale this map was either, but it looked like Florin was very far away.

The Governor was thinking the same thing. "That is quite a journey." He said with dismay.

"It hardly matters," said Will. "I'm going after her, no matter how far away it is."

The Governor looked like he was about to argue but changed his mind. "I would stop you, Mr. Turner, and send someone like the Commodore instead, but you would likely go anyway. And you _have_ proven to be rather successful at finding and returning my daughter in the past."

"I'm going to need this map, and a ship."

The Governor nodded and instructed one of his servants to go to the fort and request that the Commodore prepare a ship immediately.

Will couldn't help but raise his eyebrows slightly as the servant hurried away. He'd been hoping for a little help but he hadn't expected it would be that easy nor that the Governor would help him quite so much.

"Don't look so surprised, Mr. Turner." The Governor smiled slightly. "It is my daughter who is once again in danger. Money and materials are no object. And as I said, you have developed a bit of a knack for rescuing her. It's probably better that I just give you a ship this time anyways or you'll simply steal one." He winked knowingly.

Will looked away a bit guiltily. It had all of course been more than worth it, but it still didn't make him feel much better about stealing a ship in the first place. Even if he was now friends with several pirates and basically a pirate himself in many ways, he was no Jack Sparrow.

"Thank you, sir, for your generosity." he bowed slightly to show gratitude and respect. "I know where she is and I will to find her and bring her back."

* * *

Of course, things never go according to plan. The best ships in Port Royal's armada were out at sea, and the Commodore claimed he could not spare another ship. It greatly pained him to say such a thing, as he still cared for Elizabeth, but he knew if there was to be some sort of unexpected pirate attack like that of the Black Pearl's some time ago, the town would not be able to defend itself.

Will argued that the cannons at the Fort would be sufficient, and the Commodore countered that the firepower on the ships with a crew operating them would be far superior. After a long and drug out argument, the Commodore reluctantly agreed to turn over a small ship, though he knew he was lessening his chances of defending the town properly, if the Governor agreed as well. Maybe no one else learned a lesson during Port Royal's raid, but he did, and he planned on not letting it happen again.

So the Governor had to choose: defend his town or send a ship after his daughter. It was an unfair choice, as he strongly saw both sides, and his heart cried out for him to favor the choice to bring his daughter back. But his head was reasoning that the lives of hundreds of townspeople could not be sacrificed to save one, even if it was his own daughter. To fully protect his town at all times, from any unseen and unexpected attack, he needed all the help he could get.

He was forced to disallow Will to take the ship.

* * *

Will paced back and forth, wearing down the grass beneath his feet. He was pacing near the same rock formation that he had been relaxing on the day before when he'd watched Saradon and his men arrive. He was angry and full of despair. With no way of following Elizabeth, what was he to do now? He had been seriously entertaining the idea of stealing a ship again as the Governor had mentioned, but with no one like Jack to come up with the insane plan nor anyone to help him, there was no way Will could do it all by himself.

He stopped pacing and leaned over to grab a handful of rocks. He angrily threw one out into the waves of the blue-green water. How could this be happening? How could he rescue Elizabeth when the military men insisted on being protected at all times from an attack that probably wouldn't happen anyways? He hated the feeling of helplessness, and knowing that Elizabeth was getting farther and farther away from him the longer he hung around in Port Royal.

He threw another rock, harder this time, and watched it land in the water. He wondered what was happening to Elizabeth at that very moment. What if he never saw her again? The thought was too much to bear - he _would_ see her again. One way or another, he would find her and bring her home.

Another rock, as hard as he could, which went twice as far as the last. He shut his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, letting the cool sea breeze fill his lungs. He was smart and inventive. He could figure a way out of this. There _had_ to be a way out. There was _always_ a way. There was something he was missing and he just had to think of it. Was there anyone in Port Royal he could convince to help him steal a small ship?

He opened his eyes and looked over the various ships at the docks and coming into the harbor. There was a large, dark ship slowly peeking around the far-away rocks that surrounded the sea entrance to Port Royal. He stared without really seeing, his mind drawing a blank in reference to his predicament.

Could Sir Fullerbutton help? No, he wouldn't feel right asking. The old man was already doing enough. The old man had rescued Will, so Will was already in his debt. To ask more would be extremely awkward indeed. Besides, he'd already told Will he had no map nor ship, so there was nothing further he could do for Will.

Frustrated and tired of pacing, Will made his way down the hill and his feet took him towards the docks. His mind ran over every possibility he could think of and he could come up with nothing hopeful. If only Jack and the Black Pearl were nearby. If only the Commodore would release a ship - just one! He turned his eyes skyward at the clouds lazily floating by and that's when a very brilliantly colored, winged animal glided overhead.

With a sudden, strong feeling of déja vú, he watched the blue and yellow parrot circle above. His breath caught in his throat.

_Could it be? _he thought, hardly daring to hope.

He watched the bird as it flew about then circled back towards the dark ship he'd seen before. He could see it much closer now and knew it looked significantly different without it's signature billowing black sails. He ran down the docks, dodging various people until he reached the end where the great ship was nearing. His heart pounded in his chest and he couldn't believe his luck.

A very familiar face leaned over the side of the ship and grinned, his gold tooth gleaming. He removed his hat and waved it.

"Oy, there Will! Long time no see!"

* * *

A beautiful, slim woman with blonde hair slowly crossed the grassy surface where her gleaming mailbox stood in the ground. She sighed, and hoped that there would be a letter from her beloved inside it. She opened the box, pulled out the two letters inside, and was saddened to see that neither were from her dear husband.

Buttercup pocketed the two letters and continued about her daily chores. She carried the water to the horses' trough, piled the hay high with a sharp pitchfork, fed the chickens, stacked the firewood, and then began to head back towards the house to cook supper several hours later.

It'd been some time since she and Westley had been married, and since she had heard of King Saradon's crowning. She knew him only as Prince Humperdink, the cowardly and cruel man who had tried to marry her, kill her, and kill her fiancé - all for the purpose of going to war with the neighboring country of Guilder.

Westley had gone off to help his Spanish friend Inigo settle in as the Dread Pirate Roberts, with Fezzik at his side several months ago. She had gotten letters from him, but not one in the past month, and she was beginning to worry. What if this time he really _had_ been murdered by pirates?

_Do not doubt._ she reminded herself, and briefly recalled when she had discovered that Westley had been masquerading as the Dread Pirate Roberts, after he'd defeated her trio of captors hired by Humperdink.

She wouldn't doubt he'd come back to her again - _Death cannot stop true love_ - but that didn't stop her from missing him.

After their escape from Humperdink's clutches, she and Westley had returned to her parents farm, which was deserted just as she had left it. They were married, and then a month or so later, Westley, Inigo and Fezzik set off to reclaim Westley's ship that he'd inherited from the previous Roberts, and make Inigo the new Roberts.

The business was still a rather confusing to Buttercup, but she understood the basics and that was enough for her. In Westley's absence, it was her job to tend to the animals, which she was managing all right.

She sat down at the kitchen table and pulled out the two letters. One was from the Kingdom and was a silly yearly survey on how their quality of living was. They got one last year too, but had just thrown it out. She tossed this year's survey into the waste bin as well. She briefly wondered how many people actually filled out those surveys.

The other letter was from her uncle, Thomas Fullerbutton. He used to live in Guilder, but left shortly after all the "war" business and rivalry began between the two countries. She heard from him about once every couple months and they remained fairly close. She was glad to see a letter from him, and immediately opened it.

It read,

_"Dearest Buttercup, _

_I have not much time and much to say. I wish I could take more time to write to you in full, but this is an urgent letter and I pray it finds you quite soon._

_I have recently met a young man, my blacksmith, under dire circumstances. I shall not give you all the details, other than a vital few. His name is William Turner, and his dearest love has been abducted by Humperdink (Saradon now, I guess) - it seems he is up to his old tricks since you foiled him. He is on his way to Florin, and I ask your help, and more importantly Westley's, in helping him get his love back. You of all people know what it is like to be in the possession of that monster. _

_William's map of Florin is very primitive and does not show him much more than how to get to Florin. I pray you can find him and help him. I have enclosed a special symbol that William will also be carrying so you will know each other. _

_Be wary of the King's guards. They attempted to kill William, and they may recognize him. Time is short, and I conclude._

_I hope you are well, and I shall write when conditions have improved._

_Yours truly, your uncle,_

_Sir Thomas Fullerbutton"_

Buttercup sat back in her chair and did not know what to say. The news was not good and she didn't know what she could do to help this William fellow without Westley. She was just trying to decide if she would be able to send some sort of express letter to Westley when she glanced out the window and saw Westley's distinct horse coming down the lane. She leapt from her chair, still clutching the letter and raced to meet him. He hurried his horse towards her, and then smoothly dismounted.

"Oh, sweet Westley." she breathed and they embraced and kissed. "I've been so worried…"

"You didn't get my last letter?" Westley asked, concern creasing his brow.

Buttercup shook her head.

Westley shrugged. "S'pose it got lost in transit, then. Shall I tie up the horse, and we can go inside?"

Buttercup smiled. "Of course."

Once inside and settled down at their usual chairs, it wasn't long before Westley had heard the full story from Mr. Fullerbutton's letter. He immediately agreed to help, but not before agreeing to help Buttercup prepare their dinner.

"We shall get his love back." Westley smiled and took a bite of the roast beef set before him. "I, of all people, know what its like to be in his position. Of course I'll help."

Buttercup smiled also. "I knew you would."

* * *

**A/n:** Ah-hah! Now Buttercup, Westley and Jack are involved. What next? Thanks for reading. Reviews deeply appreciated!


	7. Chapter 7 Departing and Arriving

A/n: New chap! Tell me what you think... :D (Excuse typos n stuff - I had no time to read it over thoroughly... its like nearly midnight and I just got home from a moive - "Fever Pitch" with Jimmy Fallon and Drew Barrymore; it was cute) And I'm doing the 30 Hour Famine right now (started at 1:00 pm), so lack of food and extreme amounts of juice could contribute to my braindead-ness... lol. Anyways, read it, let me know what you think. Gimme a review (pretty please?).

* * *

CHAPTER 7

Will grinned from ear to ear as Jack Sparrow helped him aboard the new and improved Black Pearl. The deck was spick and span, the sails billowing above his head in the wind.

Captain Jack patted Will on the back. "So, how ya bee, boy?" he said, also grinning.

Will pat Jack's back in return. "I wasn't so good until you showed up."

"Why? What's happening now?" Jack said seriously, and then turned on an amusing smile as he added, "Elisabeth giving you trouble?"

Will shook his head, but said, "In a way, I suppose." And without further hesitation, Will spilled the whole story to Jack, and evidently the crew who were standing by.

"So you need a ship, is that what you're saying, mate?" Jack crossed his arms over his overly tan chest, showing slightly through his mish-mash of pirate clothes.

Will nodded.

Anna Maria sidled over and set her hand on Jack's shoulder, who was looking thoughtful. "Well, Jack? He _is_ your old mate. And it wouldn't be _too_ out of the way, now would it?"

"Raaawww! Wind in the Sails! Wind the Sails!" Mr. Cotton's parrot cackled suddenly.

Anna Maria regarded the parrot briefly, and started to speak, the ends of her coming out from her red bandana tossing in the wind. "Even Cotton - "

Jack cut her off. "I wasn't thinking if we were going to _take_ him! I was trying to figure out where he would sleep!"

The crew laughed, including Will, as relief washed over him. He'd known deep down his pirate friend would help him, but he'd still had the feeling pulsing through him a moment ago that he was going to have to find some other way.

"We just got here, though, mate, so we need to get some supplies before we set off." Jack said, and motioned over his shoulder for the crew to get busy, which they did immediately.

Gibbs called over his shoulder, "Good to see you Will!"

"You too, Gibbs!" Will waved at him, smiling.

In only a few hours time, he was going to be on his way to see Elisabeth. He only prayed he wasn't too late.

* * *

Elisabeth was jarred awake when the creaking and slamming of the ships doors and ramps became startling apparent. They were here. They were in Saradon's land. 

Judging by the small amount of orange tinted light filtering through her tiny window, Elisabeth surmised it was either dawn or dusk, but most likely the latter. She donned the thin leather slippers laid out for her, but still refused to put on the dress. She would wear her nightgown and her robe, and that was that.

Earlier that day, they had moved her an ever so slightly more comfortable room in the ship. Truly, the only difference was the small window up near the ceiling. The rest looked exactly the same, including the dress over the ragged looking chair.

There were a series of thumps and bumps overhead as the crew unloaded, and she wondered when they would decide to come fetch her. And no sooner had that thought crossed her mind, she was startled by loud clanging of keys jostling outside her door. The door flung open, and a burly man stood there.

"We're here. Get a move on." he said gruffly, obviously in no mood for anything except getting of the ship.

Elisabeth said nothing and sullenly stood. She walked to the door, and the man clutched her arm. He jammed the keys back into his belt with the other hand, and began leading Elisabeth roughly out of the ships bowels.

She took no note of her surroundings - why bother? - until they had come off the ship, down the ramp, and she set foot on the shore. The man stopped walking and continued to hold her arm tightly in an inconspicuous way as Elisabeth took some time to look around.

They appeared to have docked in front of a small town. All over the buildings and homes hung long blue banners with some animal on them, colored in yellow. Straight ahead of the dock was an archway, apparently leading to a road, which in turn lead to the castle - she guessed. The shops and buildings on either side of the street were all plain, stone gray, with people bustling along the street going about their daily business, paying her no mind.

Beyond the town to the left, she could see a bridge in the distance, and then fields and a forest. It looked like a lovely country, and she would've liked to come some other time when she was not a captive or prisoner to a man she barely knew.

'_Speaking of the wretch himself...' _Elisabeth thought bitterly.

Saradon descended the ramp coming the ship in his annoying splendor of fine clothes, perfectly curled hair, perfectly tanned skin, and a perfectly fake smile fixed upon his face as the public caught site of their King coming back from a trip.

Elisabeth inwardly groaned as people crowded around, all wanting to get a better look at the King. She was eternally thankfully she was wearing a long thick robe, even if it was a pajama robe. She wouldn't have been able to bear it, standing in front of all these people in her nightgown.

_'Although,' _she half-smiled. '_You did stand in your undergarments on a plank in front of Will, Jack and a band of dirty pirates once.'_

Suddenly Saradon was at her side, and her small memory induced smile vansihed immediately. She really wanted to punch Saradon and run. But where would she go? And there was no way she could outrun several of the King's Guards, especially the ones standing by on horseback.

"Good morning, good morning to you all!" Saradon said, his voice sickly friendly and fake. No one seemed to notice how fake he was being except Elisabeth.

The burly man had released Elisabeth's arm and moved away. Saradon grasped her hand firmly and shot her the smallest of glares, which clearly read,

'_Say a word or move an inch and you are done.'_

Elisabeth glared back at him, and moved a few inches away from him, just to spite him. He ignored her tiny attempt to make him angry, and continued to urge her forward through the gathered crowd, who fawned over Saradon.

Saradon kept his hand on hers, moving her closer to the carriage, exapling and announcing this fair maiden was his new fiancé from a land far away. She barely heard him spouting such things, because Elisabeth could only feel panic, helplessness, and anger. Panic, because she was about to climb into a carriage with Saradon which would take her deep into his castle, where she would be somehow be forced to marry him. Helplessness, because there was nothing for her to do except keeping hoping and praying with all her soul that her predicament would change for the better. And anger, because Saradon had this hold of panic and helplessness over her, and he knew it.

They were about a foot away from the carriage when someone thrust something into her right hand - the one not being held tightly in Saradon's grip. She glanced down at it, and saw it was a small circle of burlap, embroidered with a simple, single white flower. She glanced up to see who had given this to her and why, but had no idea which peasant or towns person it could have been.

She and Saradon stopped walking - he to smoothly coo to the people around him once more that day, her to look rapidly for the person who'd handed her the symbol.

A man with blonde hair pulled back except for a stray piece flipped over his eyes, gave her a tiny smile and a wink. Her first thought was that the man was some sort of bandit making eyes at her, because he wore a mask over the upper half of his face. But he wore no bandana to cover his head as other bandits did, so she wasn't sure.

He pointed to the symbol in her hand so fast she barely saw it. She glanced at the burlap in her hand, understanding that he'd given it to her, but having no clue why. Elisabeth looked back to where he'd been standing and nearly gasped out loud.

He was gone.

"Come along, pumpkin!" Saradon said loudly and again in that sickly sweet, overly fake voice. He grinned widely and ushered her to the door of the carriage where the footman helped her up and into the carriage. She stuffed the symbol in her pocket in a flash, not really sure what to do with it. Saradon climbed in after her, waving and grinning and cooing some more, before the footman shut the door and the carriage began moving.

Saradon kept the fake smile plastered on his face until the carriage's windows turned so no one could see him, which was when he promptly shut the curtains. He was about to say something, but Elisabeth beat him to it.

"Smiling so awfully all the time must make your cheeks tired." she said with a trace of humor.

His eyes narrowed. "You _are_ going to make this difficult, aren't you?"

Elisabeth crossed her arms. "And why shouldn't I?"

He shook his head, and although she could tell he was angry, he did not retort. He leaned back in the seat. She wasn't sure he was going to say anything at all, when he finally spoke again.

"We can do this in an easy manner," his voice dropped low and dangerous as he added, "or the hard way."

Undeterred by his threat, Elisabeth shot back, "Oh, and what way was this? The ILLEGAL way, I would presume!"

Saradon clenched and unclenched his jaw. "No one can help you now. It does you no good to be wretched."

"No good? No one will help me? Want to test that theory out?" she said, and noted the twitch of worry across his face.

"What are you going to - " he started, but she cut him off.

"HELP ME! SOMEBODY HELP ME!" she leaned out the window as she screamed. "I'M BEING KIDNAPPED - "

Saradon yanked her back in and slapped her hard across the face. It stung, but she didn't want to quit. What if someone _would_ help her? She started screaming again, but only for a moment.

Saradon was quicker than her, and in seconds he'd knifed off a piece of the curtain and was jamming it in her open mouth. When she reached to yank it out, he'd grabbed her hands and was holding them on her own knees.

"You will be silent." he said, and there was no missing the fury in his eyes.

As Elisabeth choked on the gag in her mouth, she found it was the first time she was truly scared of Saradon. Something about the way he said that... it sent shivers down her spine, and she knew she would not being screaming anymore - at least not in this carriage.

He sensed her sudden fear, and eased off. "That's better." he said, his eyes still blazing.

She gently pulled the gag out of her mouth and dropped it on the floor. She said not another single word the entire rest of the trip.

* * *

A/n: So, how was it? Please oh please let me know...! Just no swearing please, and flames will be used to burn firewood.

Oh, more one little note thing. The symbol on the burlap: I don't have a specific meaning for it yet, so don't ask, lol. All will be explained (when I figure it out myself! lol!)

Also, for any of my fans out there reading my other stuff... I updated my "Behind Enemy Lines" fic, "The Other Victims", giving it its third and final chapter, and no one has reviewed the conclusion! Go now! Read! Review! (please:D)


	8. Chapter 8 A Duel and a Map

A/n: Yay! A new chapter... Summer is here, I am officially done High School forever and ever...! So now, my big hopes are that my fics will move faster through here (updates, I mean). So please please review me, b/c they are so fun to read. Ok, I think its a fairly long-ish chapter, and I hope you like. I have big plans in store, so don't fret if this chapter sucked.

* * *

**CHAPTER 8**

Westley ran his fingers through his shining blonde hair with one and hand, and with the other he opened the door to his home. Inside, Buttercup heard him enter, and quickly stood up. The embroidery she had been working on fell gently to the floor, already forgotten. She stared right at his blue-green eyes behind his black mask.

"What happened?" she asked, wasting no time. She took a few steps towards him, wringing her hands. Where was the girl?

Westley pulled off the face mask he'd been wearing and tossed it on the nearby kitchen counter. "I gave her the symbol." He shook his head slightly as if frustrated with himself.

"That's it?" Buttercup's shoulders visibly sagged, and she felt a little confused and disappointed. Their original plan had been that Westley would rescue the girl and bring her back her.

Westley nodded glumly. "I was by myself and there were far too many guards around. It was as if he were almost expecting something to go wrong." He sighed and settled into a chair beside Buttercup's vacant one. "And of course practically every towns person in the country had to be there, too."

Buttercup shook her head and bit her lip. She sunk back down into her chair, feeling sad. If this had been her, how would she feel? "Is there anything further we can do?" she asked hopefully.

Westley shrugged. "Not until this Turner fellow arrives. He _is_ coming, right? I mean, he found some sort of transport, didn't he?"

Buttercup shifted slightly. "I assume so. I mean, in Uncle Thomas' letter, it said he was on his way. There wasn't a date on the letter, though, so William could be arriving any time today and after."

Westley nodded thoughtfully. "In that case, I should be heading to the docks right away, then."

Buttercup nodded and sighed. "I suppose it would be best."

Westley rose and hugged her tight, thinking of their predicament. When he pulled away, he brushed some her beautiful blonde hair from her eyes. He smiled and she smiled back. And then it hit him.

"Come with me." he said.

"What?" Buttercup half-smiled.

Westley held her hands. "Come with me! I've been teaching you swordplay - you could easily hold your own! Let's go together."

Buttercup glanced ast the corner of the room where she keep Westley's new sword, and his old one, which was essentially hers. It was true, she had been learning, and improving. But could she really see herself taking on castle guards when only not that long ago she could barely defend herself against an R.O.US.?

She looked back into Westley's eyes. If anything went wrong, he would protect her...

Westley released her and retrieved their swords from the corner. He tossed Buttercup hers, and readied himself with his own. He smiled challengingly. "You're unsure of yourself, dear, so let's have a go."

Buttercup raised her eyebrow. "Are wanting a duel with me, _darling?_"

"Indeed, I am."

"Very well, I accept." she also readied herself.

Westley's grin grew, and he thought of his friend Inigo as he said, "Begin."

After a moments hesitation on Westley's part, Buttercup struck with surprising force and accuracy. He could only keep smiling as he defended himself, though, as he taught her nearly everything she knew. He blocked her easily for quite some time, waiting for her to get tired. But she didn't. Her blows and strikes were consistent, but different enough that he had to keep switching defences. The way she was working, he didn't have a single second to put in his own offensive attack.

Buttercup moved and dodged, struck and parried constantly, knowing that a tiny mistake or then tiniest of breaths in her swordplay was enough o give Westley an opening. She was getting more tired by the minute, but she refused to let the pace slow, as she could see Westley was beginning to struggle as well. Despite her energy quickly ebbing away, Buttercup stepped up the pace on her attacks.

Westley blocked harder and faster, each time strongly reminded of his last moments in his sword fight against Inigo on the Cliffs of Insanity. Except that his opponent was not the one tiring and about to use both hands. Westley could remember that duel clearly in his mind, and made sure he would not use both hands, no matter what. It only wrecked his concentration by making him desperate.

Buttercup's energy was nearly sapped and yet she managed to keep up her attacks. The duel was ranging all over the kitchen and living room, and now there were some pots and pans on the floor, one chair was knocked over, and one set of curtains had been pulled from their hangings. A small idea arrived in Buttercup's mind, and she whipped around to the side and continued her attacks in such a way as to force Westley towards the kitchen. She knew if this worked, she would win. And if it didn't she would lose, as she would have no more energy whatsoever.

Startled by her sudden change in direction, Westley was caught off guard for a moment, and grabbed his sword with both hands. He blocked once or twice, all the while having to step backwards to give himself more room to defend himself. A few seconds later he realized he hand both hands on his sword and quickly removed his left. He could not believe how his wife was duelling with him. She was amazing, and yet it was only from a few months of teaching. And _how_ was she keeping her energy up sp high?

Buttercup was panting hard, her arms and legs screaming for her to slow down. She did not. He was almost there...

Westley thought he could outsmart her once and for all if he managed to swing back around her and start offensive attacks...

He took another step backward, and was just about to put this small plan into action, when his foot landed on something shiny and metal. It slid across the floor under his weight, sending Westley to land soundly and rather painfully on the floor. The impact sent his floor sliding far out of his grasp.

Buttercup grinned and pointed her sword at Westley's neck. "Satisfied?"

Westley nodded, his handsome grin wide. "Quite."

"Then let's go."

* * *

"So that's why I'm going to Florin." Will finished, and the looks on the faces of the crew were rather varied. Some looked sad, others sympathetic. One looked confused, two looked thoughtful. One looked an amused, and one was smiling stupidly and Will was quite sure he had not heard a single word of the entire conversation.

Jack gave Will a hearty pat on the back as they both stood up, as did the rest of the crew who had listened. "You'll find her. Don't worry, mate. You'll get her back." he grinned, revealing a glinting fake tooth. "You always do."

Will nodded, still feeling numb. As soon as he got to Florin, he was definitely in trouble. He was supposed to be dead, and his map only show him how to get to Florin. He had no map of Florin itself. And what if Elisabeth was dead when he got there? Then what was he supposed to do?

He leaned on the edge of the boat and looked out over the rippling blue-green ocean, and despite all his worries, he felt a small bit of calm seep into him, like he was soaking it up from the ocean. It made him feel a little better, and at least quieted his mind for some time.

He did not know how much time had passed, when Mr. Gibbs suddenly called out, "Land Ho! Florin, Lads!"

Will raced to the front of the boat and saw a large sea-side town sprawling off the main docks. It looked like a small, sweet little town, a little less formal than Port Royal. In the distance beyond the town, there was massive grey building whose features were not yet distinguishable, but he guessed right away that that was the castle that he needed to get to.

The big ship's mass continued toward the sea-side town for quite some time before abrutply turning towards the left. Will looked confusedly at Jack who was steering at the helm, and the back at the sea-side town, which they were obviously moving away from.

"Oy, JACK!" Will hurried over to the Captain. "Florin's _that_ way!"

Jack nodded. "I know that, son."

"Then why in the blazes are you heading _this_ way!" Will shouted.

"Hold your shirt on, Will. I know what I'm doing."

"I'm sure you do, but I don't! So would you mind explaining it to me?"

Jack sighed and produced a grubby looking piece of paper from his pocket. Will took it gingerly, as it looked as though it would fall apart if he grabbed it to hard.

The paper had what appeared to be a map roughly scratched on it. It showed the main docks of Florin, among several other labelled places. The Castle, The Castle Grounds, The Fire Swamp, The Pit of Despair, The Lake, and The Thieves Forest. Across from The Lake, there was more places labelled, and over it all said, "The Country of Guilder". In the country of Guilder were The Cliffs of Insanity, The Place where the Man in Black beat Fezzik, The Place where the Man in Black beat Vizzini, The Ravine, and The Fire Swamp, which was the same Fire Swamp which appeared to connect the two countries as did the massive Lake.

"Jack... what _is_ this?"

"It's a map, Will. Gee, and your father said you were brilliant." Jack shook his head.

"I can _see_ it's a map. But a map of what? It has the strangest names on it..." Will rotated the paper slightly and read the names over again in his head.

"Aah, a few months back we got into a pirate scrape with a fellow named Roberts. I won't explain everythin' because that would take too long." Jack paused and gave the helm a turn. "In the end, however, this Roberts fellow an' I become friends, more or less, and he gave me this map, sayin' if I'm ever near Florin it'll help a great deal." Jack shrugged. "Didn't know where Florin was, but he said it was a pretty important map, and if a certain prince got a hold of it, things wouldn't be very good, so I was to keep it close." Jack shrugged again. "So I did, and looks like it finally came in handy." He grinned again.

"Right..." Will trailed off. "So then, where are we headed? Why not words the main dock?"

"Well, the way I see it, the King's guards will be swarming the docks, because its close to the castle." he pointed to the map as he was talking with a dirty finger adorned with a heavy ring. "So, seein' how the ocean joins up with this here Lake... thought it'd be easier to dock by this here Fire Swamp, see?"

Will nodded in understanding. "Good thinking, Jack."

Jack tapped the side of his head with his finger. "Always."

* * *

A/n: Well? What do you think? By the way, for anyone who didn't catch/understand: Roberts is Inigo. (Ooo, possible foreshadowing...?) Lol. Anyways, leave me a review, b/c I LOVE LOVE reviews. As usual, please, no swearing and preferably no flames b/c they are no fun.

Major Thank you to all my reviews, but I'd like to a shout out to a certain three reviwers who seem to be very faithful. **williz, Kelsey Estel, **and **moony's number 1**. Thank you sooo much for all your reviews, guys:)


	9. Chapter 9 Arrving in Florin

A/n: Yay, another update. This isn't the greatest chapter, but its really more of a 'set-up' chapter, if you know what I mean. I hope you like it anyways. And once again, a massive thank you to all my reviewers! You guys are awesome! Enjoy.

* * *

**CHAPTER 9**

Will studied the map more as the ship glided along into the hidden dock next to the place labelled "The Fire Swamp". There was a star beside the name "The Lake", there was a tiny star and a then at the very bottom of the map in tiny print was what appeared to be a footnote. It read, "NOTE: Eel infested waters!" Will found this extremely odd. He re-read the tiny note, then leaned over the edge of the boat and studied the water. It didn't look eel infested...

A long dark form slid past the ship deep in the water, not even further rippling the surface as the ship continued on its way and the form disappeared from view. Will shivered at the site and sat back down, making a mental note never to swim in this particular body of water.

The ship finally made it to the small dock at the edge of the trees, and Will saw it was indeed an unknown dock as Jack had said. There were weeds and other plants growing over the dock, and the land just beyond he dock behind a small cover of trees gave the impression of once having a path, but had since grown over with plants and fallen leaves.

The crew flew to their chores, getting the ship ready to stop as it edged up to the dock. Once the anchor had been dumped into the water and all the necessary procedures were finished, the ship made a graceful stop not too far away from the overgrown dock. The water was surprisingly deep for a mere lake. Right away the crew pushed out a long plank of wood so one could walk down it like a bridge from the large ship to the small dock.

Will walked down the gang plank that was connecting the ship to the dock and inhaled deeply. The air was fresh and smelled like trees and earth. He looked around. The dock couldn't be more than a six or seven feet wide, and ten or twelve feet long. Past the dock were scattered trees, and beyond that was a wide clearing as if a road had once been there, running parallel to the dock. In the distance past the old road were dark sinister looking tress. Will glanced at the old map once again in his hand and guessed those dark trees must be the beginning of the Fire Swamp. He dreaded having to cross through such a place.

As he stared at the map, his eyes lit on another landmark: The Castle. He sighed, thinking of Elisabeth and how she must be feeling at that very moment. Probably trapped and depressed at having been forced to be in the clutches of the pig-King of this foreign land.

'_I'll find you soon.'_ he thought as he sadly re-pocketed the precious map. '_Hold on.'_

Jack suddenly interrupted Will's thoughts and observations, shouting, "Will! Look sharp!"

Will broke out of his thoughts and unsheathed his sword in a flash. A tall man dressed in black appeared from behind a tree. The top half of his face was obscured by a black shiny mask. He had blonde hair and he half-smiled. "Turner, I presume?"

Will lifted his chin. How did this man know who he was? "Who are you?"

The man smiled fully. "Good. Nice and cautious." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small burlap square. Sewn clearly onto it was an embroidered white lily. He held it out for Will to see, and took a few small steps forward.

Will held up his sword defensively, just in case, until he could see what was on the little burlap square. He let out a small breath of relief when he was able to discern the symbol on the brown square. He lowered his sword and dug into his own pocket.

He smiled and held out his own burlap square with a lily on it. "Westley, I presume?"

The man in black, Westley, bowed slightly. "Indeed."

"Is this the chap the Fullerbutton fellow was talkin' 'bout?" Jack called from the ship.

Will turned around. "So it appears."

Jack sniffed the air. "I don't like him."

Will ignored Jack's comment and instead he turned back to Westley. "What's your wife's name?"

"Buttercup." Westley answered readily. "And her uncle is Sir Thomas Fullerbutton, who is living in Port Royal. Anything else you'd like to know?"

"I'm sure you are who you say you are, sir." Will smiled reassuringly.

Westley nodded, his eyes twinkling. "And I am quite sure you are who _you_ say you are."

Will already liked this Westley fellow. He just had a feeling about the man, and it was not a bad feeling in the slightest. His eyes were kind, and as a lovely blonde woman emerged from a dark patch of trees several feet behind Westley, Will knew that must be Buttercup. Just before he left, he'd gotten to see a picture of her from Mr. Fullerbutton. Although her hair was pulled up in a tight bun, and she too was wearing a black mask over the top portion of her face, there was no mistaking the rest of her features.

Will bowed. "Pleased to meet you both."

Jack cleared his throat loudly from the ship, and Will tried not to grin too widely as he turned slightly to introduce Jack. "This is my good friend Jack Sparrow. This is his ship."

Buttercup and Westley both smiled. "Hello Jack." Buttercup said, and Westley nodded in greeting.

Jack still seemed to have some reservations about the pair, but he kept them to himself. He removed his hat and grandly waved them aboard the Black Pearl. "Welcome to my ship. Take care not to dirty it up." He winked at Buttercup as she climbed gracefully aboard wearing shining black boats, a loose white shirt and slim-fitting black pants. Westley and Will followed her, and shortly Westley and Buttercup met the entire crew. After all introductions had been made, the crew, including Will, set to work with their usual chores.

About an hour or so later, when the ship and its crew were fully settled at the Unknown Dock, it was decided that Jack and the crew would stay overnight, gather supplies and head off again in the morning, as it seemed Anna Maria and Jack had some unfinished business to attend to. They would return in five days to pick up Will and Elisabeth.

Will only hoped he would have Elisabeth by that time, and they would both be safe and unharmed.

* * *

Elisabeth sighed again and switched hands as her left was beginning to fall asleep with pins and needles. She lifted her head to do so, the let it rest back down on her right hand. Her hair was pulled back loosely and her eyes stung from hours of crying.

Shortly after she'd arrived in the castle, she'd been taken up to one of the towers and locked in. Three guards stood outside her doorway at all times, and a maid come up every few hours to give her a meal. The room contained one large bed, a small desk and two or so chairs. There was a large faded red rug on the ground, though it was so thin it might as well not have been on the floor at all for she noticed.

She'd watched the sun go down, the stars come up, the sun come up and the stars disappear. She couldn't guess what time of the day it was, simply that she was miserable and she didn't really care what time of day it was.

She spent most of her time thinking of Will. Where was he... how is he... is he alright... what is he doing right now... does he miss her...is he coming for her... how long will it take...

And if it was not endless unanswerable questions with numerous thoughts and mind-contrived images to go with, it was memories of him and her together. When he'd dropped off the Commodore's sword and she'd told him about a dream... when she'd been kidnapped by pirates and seen him so far away as she was whisked away... when he'd found her in the cave and taken her to safety... when he'd taken her place to be killed among the pirates because... when they fought pirates together... when they'd first kissed...

Then of course, if her thoughts weren't centered on Will in any way, they were on her situation and how could she possibly get out of it. Could she get out the tower window without killing herself... could she somehow lock the guards outside her door in her room and escape that way... could she fake illness or death to get let out the room... would she ever get out... would she die here... what will happen...

Every question only brought her tired paranoid mind to make up more dramatic scenarios causing her to feel worse and worse. Often cried, especially when she thought of how she couldn't find a solution to her problem.

She had no tears left however, so when she cried it was really more dry racking sobs. And when sometimes she had tears, they rolled down her face and she didn't bother to wipe them away. Her hope was draining so much each passing hour, she scarcely hoped for any kind of rescue. By the next day, she would probably be positive she would have to die in Saradon's wretched castle.

She hadn't slept since she'd arrived and had hardly eaten. The maid kept telling her that if she didn't eat, she'd lose her beauty. Elisabeth would have snickered at such a remark as she somehow found it amusing, but she felt she had lost the ability to smile. If she turned out to be an ugly Queen for Saradon, so be it. Maybe then he would set her free...

And her mind went reeling once again.

* * *

A/n: A little shorter then it ought to be, I suppose, but again, it is a 'set-up' chapter. So tell me what you thought. I love getting reviews - they make me very happy - and long reviews are even better. Reviews make me happy and happy authors update faster (hint hint). Lol. Talk to everyone later, and be sure to check my bio every once in a while so you know what's been updated, alright:)


	10. Chapter 10 The Letter

A/n: I know, it took FOREVER to update. But alot of it was in part to the fact that I recently moved and had no internet for like a month and a bit. Then the rest of the problem was that I had really bad writer's block with this story. I finally got an idea, though, and I know this chapter is kind of short, but ya. I hope y'all like it anyways. Review me!

* * *

**Chapter 10**

Elisabeth sat up straight. What was her problem? Of course she was under the thumb of a frightening and greedy king, but that was beside the point. Here she was sobbing, crying, feeling exceedingly sorry for herself, dredging up sad memories, thinking of anything bleak and dismal that flitted through her head, allowing her morale to slump _awfully_ low.

In all this time, had she really given no thought to when the pirates had raided Port Royal and taken her along? She'd thought of anything that involved Will, to be sure. But how could she not have thought about how scared she was – how utterly terrified – and yet she stayed as tough as she could. Seeing the rotting skeletons of the pirates had thrown her for a loop, of course, and believing she was about to be murdered was easily one the scariest moments of her life.

And yet she had not given hope. What was different now? She was being forced to marry a sickening man. But she was not a living sacrifice to lift an ancient curse. It could be worse, and once a long time ago, it had been.

Elisabeth physically shook herself. How did she let it get this way? Would Will think of her the same if he saw her now? She still felt deeply, coldly depressed, and yet there was something else that she felt at this new string of thoughts. Warmth? Hope? Was it hope?

Elisabeth glanced at the door, ever-present tears swimming in her eyes. She suddenly felt angry and forcefully wiped the tears away. She could figure out this out. She was no soft princess content to stare out the window dismally for all eternity. _I survived blood-thirsty pirates!_ She reminded herself, full of anger at the way she had been acting and her situation combined.

It was a strange feeling, her soul heavy with sadness, sparking with a newfound hope and blazing with anger. No more sitting. No more endless rounds of questions without answers.

"_No more tears._" She aloud, though quietly.

She closed her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. Will would come as soon as he could. She knew it and never doubted it – anymore, that is. She would eat, she would sleep… And she would get out of here.

* * *

"Will."

A hand gently shook Will.

"Will." The voice said again and the hand shook Will a little harder.

Will opened his eyes and blearily glanced around him as the shaking on his shoulder finally ceased. "What?" he said, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. It was pitch black inside his quarters and although he could that his door was open, he could see it was still night outside.

"It'll be dawn in a few hours. We should get a move on now." It was Westley.

Will stifled a groan and a wide yawn and the said, "Why are we leaving in the middle of the night again?"

"Because then we can travel the main roads unnoticed – unless of course you'd rather wait until morning, and go through the Fire Swamp." Will could tell by the tone of Westley's voice that the latter was smiling at the last part.

Will smiled also, remembering earlier stories from Westley and Buttercup about the three terrors of the Fire Swamp: Fire Bursts, Lightning Sand, and the R.O.U.S.'s (Rodents Of Unusual Size). Three things which Will quite did not wish to encounter, so although he felt quite sleep deprived, he rolled out of bed anyways after Westley exited his sleeping quarters.

He got dressed right away, took only a moment to inform Jack that he, Westley and Buttercup were off, and then stole into the shadows on the edge of the bank. The air was cool, there was almost no breeze and their footsteps were quite quiet on the grassy ground. None of them said anything, as they had nothing to say.

Will thought about Elisabeth and wondered how she was feeling at that moment, if she was alright and praying that she had not been forced into the marriage just yet.

Buttercup held Westley's hand and was quite content to merely be with her love walking through a pretty tree lined grove in the moonlight. She pushed from her mind the circumstances behind this midnight walk.

Westley's thoughts flitted between various things. Things like how much he appreciated Buttercup and her company tonight, he wondered how Will's love was fairing in her situation, he thought about different routes they should take and which way they should go when dawn began to break and numerous other things. Mostly, though, he thought about a certain letter he had sent some time ago now, and desperately hoped it had arrived.

* * *

A tall man with dark hair and dark eyes stood at the very front of his great ship, watching the waves roll across him, highlighted by moonbeams. He never expected to love sailing this much. He smiled a little to himself and glanced up towards the stars, twinkling brilliantly above.

"Sir?"

The man turned around. "Yes?"

"Captain," A younger man with short blonde hair and plain sailor clothes stood a little ways from the man. "McKinley just came back from shore, sir, and he brought a bag of letters with him."

"Good. Tell him to hand them out right away." The captain smiled widely. "I'm sure the men are eager top hear from their loved ones."

"Aye, sir." The younger man said, also smiling widely. "And there was one for you on top." He produced a small yellowed envelope and held onto a lantern so the older man could read the letter.

"For me?" the captain asked confusedly, gingerly taking the letter. He had no loved ones who would write to him and especially no one who would know who he really was…

He carefully tore open the envelope and slid the letter out. The younger man, Douglas, held up the lantern for the captain to read by. The letter read,

_Dear Dread Pirate Roberts,_

_This is The Man In Black. I am sure you know exactly who I am, but just in case this letter is somehow intercepted before it can reach your eyes and your eyes only, I am resorting t speaking in code. _

_I write to you under grave circumstances. A man by the same name of the cook who made the excellent tortillas is coming from Port Royal because his dearest love was abducted by a pig-headed prince who became king. When he reaches my home land, I will meet up with him and we will be on our way to retrieve his dearest love, with the lady we rescued together by my side (again, I am sure you know of whom I speak)._

_The reason for this letter is that I plead for your help. I know that as it is now, I really owe you one (for the whole Miracle Pill incident), but I would ask that score be upped so I owe you two. If you're not already, make your way to my home land, and I will meet you at the spot where your vertically challenged friend was "out thought" by yours truly._

_I hope you are well, and please say hello to our very large friend. I miss raiding castles with you two gentlemen. _

_Please send a reply by your fastest courier as soon as you receive this, else I will see you at the designated meeting place._

_Sincerely, _

_The Man In Black_

The captain cracked another smile. He looked up at Douglas. "Douglas?"

"Yes sir?"

"It is too late to send a reply, but will you please round up the men immediately."

"Of course sir, right away."

"Set sail for Florin. I have an important meeting to attend."

* * *

A/n: Well? Well? Well? Tell me what you thought, I'm dying to know. And I'm pretty sure everyone who has seen the Princess Bride a couple of times should be able to totally decode The Man In Black's letter, but let me know if you're stumped or if you just can't figure out who the captain is. :D More soon!


	11. Chapter 11 Buttercup's History Review

**A/n:** Alas, a long time to update and another "set-up" chapter. Sorry guys, but don't worry. It's gonna get better. :D**

* * *

Chapter 11**

The sun was beginning to rise, so Westley kept even closer to the tree line than before. The dock was far behind them now and Will hadn't been able to see the ship or the lake in the distance for quite some time.

Still, the three of them said hardly anything at all, not finding any reason to talk as they walked steadily on without rest.

They climbed a steep hill, using boulders and long clumps of grass the help them up. Once on top, Westley stopped them for a moment. He turned around and pointed at a dark, ominous looking forest, the entrance of which sat between two extremely steep hills (the one they were now on top of and another straight across from them).

"That's the Fire Swamp." Westley said, indicating the dark forest. "And, yes, it would have cut our journey in half, if not more, to go through it."

Will nodded, looking at the Fire Swamp and shivered. "I'm fine with your decision to go around, Westley. I'm not particularly keen on meeting – what were they called?"

"Rodents of Unusual Size." Buttercup interjected.

"Right. Those." Will could only imagine what they looked like and the damage they could inflict.

"Moving on?" Westley asked.

Again, Will nodded. "Lead the way."

Buttercup sighed heavily and nodded as well.

"What is it, my love?" Westley questioned at Buttercup's deep sigh.

"Could we rest, please?" she pleaded. "My legs are dying. I just need a moment to catch my breath."

Westley smiled. "Just a bit further and then you will be able to have a longer rest, I promise."

Buttercup sighed again and reluctantly forced her legs to keep going.

Will was glad she had said it and not him. Sweat glazed his forehead and his own legs were burning form the effort of a several hour long walk, though he had refused to say anything. Westley didn't seem tired at all, so Will wasn't going to appear tired either.

They continued along the hilltop, passing larger and larger boulders as they went. The hilltop was quite broad and many of the boulders were wide and flat instead of tall and round. On their right the hill fell away smoothly into other rolling grassy hills, riddled with rocks of different shapes and sizes. On their left, the hill dropped away sharply to a rocky path at the bottom before steeply becoming the next hill, the top of which reached higher towards the sky then the hill they were on now. In the distance before them, Will could see more trees and smoother looking hills.

Shortly, Westley brought them to a part of the hill with smaller boulders and where it was quite flat and clear. In the distance to their left was a jagged looking hill, swooping acutely down into a thick forest, which in turn swept up to crest on a browning hilltop. Here, Westley stopped.

"Have a seat, darling." He said and Buttercup gratefully collapsed on a soft section of ground. "You too, Will."

"But Westley – " Will started. He had the feeling Westley came to this specific spot for a reason and Will didn't want to sit and let his guard down, just in case.

Westley held up a hand. "No worries, Will. Everything is completely under control."

Will sat slowly on a flat boulder, positioned to jump up at the first sign of trouble.

Westley cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, "Inconcieveable!"

There was a deep whoop of laughter coming from the trees before a man dressed like a pirate dropped out of one of them and began coming towards Westley.

Will jumped up, but Westley waved his hand to indicate this other man was a friend and not a foe.

"It still makes me laugh, all this time later." The man said and he and Westley embraced like long-lost brothers.

"It's been a while." Westley said when they pulled apart.

"So why do you need my help?" the man got immediately to the point.

Westley chuckled. "I shan't waste a moment."

The two men moved out of ear-shot and Will strained to hear what they were saying. He guessed – correctly, though he didn't know it – that they were talking about him and his situation. He very much wanted to be included in the conversation.

After a moment, Buttercup shook her head and laughed a little. "Will, it does no good."

He turned to her quizzically.

"If they don't want to be overheard, they won't be."

Knowing she was right, and to take his mind of trying to eavesdrop, Will said, "Why this spot?"

Buttercup smiled. "This is where Westley officially rescued me – the first time. Though I didn't know it was him at the time." She sighed a little. "Vizzini and his men had taken me captive and were going to kill me. Vizzini sent Inigo first to finish off a man in black who was following us. That's Inigo there." She pointed to the pirate talking to Westley.

"But, if he was kidnapping you, how is he Westley's friend?" Will asked.

"I'll tell you in a minute." Buttercup said and continued. "Inigo was beaten and the man kept coming, so Vizzini sent Fezzik. Fezzik is a giant of a man who wouldn't hurt a fly if he didn't have to. Somehow the Man in Black got past Fezzik as well, and kept coming. So Vizzini blindfolded me, sat me down, and held a knife to my neck."

Will leaned forward a bit. "How did you escape?" he asked, the image of a cursed pirate holding as knife to Will's neck flitting briefly in his mind.

"Well, the Man in Black challenged Vizzini to a battle of wits, for me, to the death. Westley outsmarted him and won the challenge. He took off my blindfold and unbound my hands, and rushed off – " she pointed the way she, Will and Westley had just come – "that way. The whole time he was very cruel and cold to me, and finally at my first chance I pushed him over the ridge."

Will raised an eyebrow. "When did you find out it was Westley? And how did he survive?"

Buttercup blushed. "As he was rolling down the hill he called out something that only he and I would know, and then I knew it was him. I threw myself down after him."

Will laughed outright, thinking of the boulder-ridden, very steep hills they had passed, and two people rolling and bouncing painfully down them.

Buttercup smiled sheepishly. "And yes, it did really hurt. After that, he left his mask off, and when Humperdink's men were coming close, we disappeared into the Fire Swamp, where we encountered all three terrors: the Fire Spurts, the Lightning Sand and the R.O.U.S.'s. Thankfully, we made it out alive."

"And then what?" Will pressed, very much intrigued by her tale.

"We walked right out of the Swamp and into Humperdink and his men. I promised to go with Humperdink if he spared Westley, to which he promised he would." She sighed. "After that, I spent very long hours moping about the castle, for I was to be Humperdink's wife if Westley didn't come for me. And he didn't, at first, but I never doubted him. I knew he would come.

"The wedding began and there was a commotion outside, and I _knew_ it was Westley. Then suddenly, we were married."

"You and Westley?"

"No. Humperdink and I."

Will raised an eyebrow. "And did you get out of _that_ one?"

Buttercup smiled ruefully. "Well, I was just about ready to kill myself, thinking my life was doomed, I was never to be with Westley, and things like that, when he spoke." Her cheeks turned pink at the memory. "And there he was, laying on my bed, waiting for me. When Humperdink found us, Westley played with words and managed to bluff Humperdink into surrendering. It was only later that I found out Humperdink had killed Westley after he learned I was in love with Westley and would never voluntarily choose Humperdink over Westley.

"That's where Inigo and Fezzik came in. When Westley beat Inigo, he knocked him out, same as what happened with Fezzik. When he beat Vizzini, Vizzini died. Because Inigo and Fezzik lived, and found out their leader was gone, they had a special respect for the Man in Black. Inigo needed to get into the castle to kill Count Rugen, who betrayed Inigo and killed his father, many years ago. So he and Fezzik sought out the Man in Black. They found him dead and bought a miracle form Miracle Max. Westley came back, Inigo killed Rugen, Humperdink was left in his cowardice, we rode off into the sunset to live happily ever after. Later, Inigo became the Dread Pirate Roberts after Westley gave up the title, Humperdink changed his name to Saradon, became King, and is now holding your fiancé prisoner."

Will blinked as Buttercup finished.

"Is everything clear to you?" she asked.

Will half nodded and then shook his head. "Clear as mud."

Buttercup smiled. "Good."

At this moment, Westley walked over to Will and Buttercup, Inigo right behind him. Will stood immediately.

"Will, this is my good friend Inigo Montoya." Westley introduced.

"Pleased to meet you, Will." Inigo said, shaking Will's hand firmly. Will noted that Inigo sounded as though he once had a Spanish accent but had been hiding it for some time and so it barely came into his words at times. "But if anyone asks, I'm the Dread Pirate Roberts." Ingio added with a wink.

"So what are we going to do?" Buttercup asked, just a split second before Will did. "Do we have a plan?"

Inigo and Westley smiled. "We have a plan." Inigo said.

* * *

**A/n:** So? Boring, I know. It's gonna get better. I just know what I want to happen a little bit _after _this, I just needed some filler to get me there. Review me anyways! I will reply! And if you don't want a reply from me... review me anyways and make me happy and want to update quicker:D (Check out my bio page often to see what's going on with me and my fics etc).

Also, I referenced the movie for location descriptions (the part where Buttercup and Westley race only the ravine floor, where she pushes him over the hill, where they talk about who Westley is, where Westley beats Vizzini, and where Westley comes over the hill and Fezzik is intructed to finish him). And lastly, I'm hoping there aren't too many errors in this chap. My computer didn't like the way I spelt Inigo, Fezzik, Vizzini, Westley, Humperdink and Saradon, so when I went through my spell checker, I hit "Ignore" alot. Hopefully I din't miss anything.


	12. Chapter 12 Will's History and a Break In

**A/n: **Yay, new chapter. :D This one has some more background in it, so sorry for the boring parts, lol. But it has some action near the end too, so yay. Enjoy and review me and make my day ten times better.**

* * *

Chapter 12 **

The plan was explained in great detail and Will thought it was a mostly good one. He was confused about the logic behind the plan in some areas and of course, there were many areas where things could go wrong and most likely would. But he trusted Westley and Westley trusted Inigo with his life, so Will in turn trusted Inigo. Somehow, something along the way would work.

Inigo bid them farewell once all angles and scenarios of the plan had been exhausted. He climbed onto a dark horse and galloped away in the direction of the castle. Westley let them rest a little longer before they began again on foot.

"So Will," Buttercup said. "You've heard our story. What about yours?"

Will shook his head. "Honestly, it's nothing."

"Oh, come now, Will! Let's hear it." Westley encouraged.

"Alright then." Will said and began his own tale.

"I'd been in love with Elisabeth nearly since the moment I met her. She was a Governor's daughter and I was a blacksmith, though, so there was not much chance of her father agreeing to us getting together. Whenever I would see her, however, she seemed to silently return the feelings I had for her and it gave me great hope.

"The day Commodore Norrington became Commodore was the same day that a dangerous pirate was running around Port Royal after almost kidnapping and harming Elisabeth."

"Oh, how awful!" Buttercup sympathized.

"It was. I met up with the pirate in my shop and after a rather long duel with him, Norrington's men arrived to take him to jail." Will sighed. "That night, there was a terrible pirate raid on Port Royal. Many were killed and injured. The worst of it was just before a pirate knocked me out, I could see them taking Elisabeth captive."

Buttercup gasped a little. "And you couldn't help her because you were out cold?"

Will nodded grimly. "Yes. I didn't wake until morning. I found out that the ship was the Black Pearl and I immediately begged Norrington for help, which he refused to give. Knowing it may have already been too late to help her, but not willing to take the chance, I went to the jail and found the pirate I'd dueled with the day for. His name was Jack Sparrow and I convinced him to help me find the Black Pearl. We outwitted Norrington and managed to steal one of his ships."

Will smiled at the memory before continuing. "We sailed into Tortuga and picked up a crew to help us follow the Black Pearl. Around that time I learned that Jack was only helping me because I was worth something to him. I was what he called the 'leverage' in convincing the captain of the Black Pearl to give up his ship to Jack. Or, give it back to Jack, I should say."

"The Black Pearl was _Jack's_ ship?" Buttercup questioned.

Will nodded. "I found that out later. We finally reached the Isla de Mureta, an island that supposedly cannot be found except by those who already know where it is. Here we managed to catch up with the Pearl. Since Jack was about to betray me, I knocked him out and quietly rescued Elisabeth without the pirates about to kill her noticing."

Westley snorted. "And how'd you manage _that_?"

Will shrugged. "Barbossa – the captain – had cut Elisabeth's hand to spill her blood on the last piece of Aztec gold, a gold medallion. When her blood didn't lift their curse as mine was meant to do, he tossed her to the side. The pirates argued and I stole away with Elisabeth, leaving Jack on the island."

"Aztec gold, curse… I don't get it." Buttercup said and shook her head confusedly.

"Many people don't. The legend was that Cortez himself delivered a chest of gold to the Isla de Mureta. With it, came a curse, that anyone who removed but a single piece would be cursed. Barbossa's crew found the gold, dismissed the legend as a mere ghost story and spent and traded away all of it. It wasn't until afterwards that they realized there really _was_ a curse. They couldn't eat, they hardly slept, they couldn't drink and they couldn't die."

Buttercup shivered.

"My father took a piece and sent it to me after Barbossa betrayed Jack, who had been captain at the time. My father wanted to the crew to stay cursed for the mutiny they'd committed. When I was shipwrecked some time later, it was Elisabeth's father's ship that found me – the only survivor – and she then took the gold because she was afraid I was a pirate."

"So why did they need Elisabeth's blood?" Westley inquired.

"When the pirates took her, in a panic she'd told them her name was Elisabeth Turner instead of Elisabeth Swann. The pirates assumed she was the only child of my father. The pirates had recovered every piece of the cursed gold except the one my father had sent to me, the one Elisabeth had in her possession. The pirates got very lucky, to tell the truth.

"Anyways, to lift the curse, they needed all the pieces of the gold and they needed to 'repay the blood'. So, if they spilt the blood of Turner on the last piece of gold, the curse would no longer be. Her blood didn't work because she wasn't Turner."

Buttercup nodded in understanding.

"After that, we tried to flee with the crew from Tortuga, but the Pearl caught up with us and overtook us. Managing to live even though they completely obliterated the ship we'd been on, I revealed myself to Barbossa as the son of Turner and the blood he needed. I surrendered myself to him on the condition they didn't harm the crew and they let Elisabeth go free.

"Well, Barbossa was careful about how I worded the conditions, and Elisabeth went free. However she was set free on a deserted island with Jack, who no longer had any 'leverage' to regain his ship now that Barbossa had me. Barbossa assumed Jack and Elisabeth would die, with no chance of rescue, and the Pearl headed back to the Isla de Mureta with myself and the Tortuga crew being held prisoner."

"Oh, how _awful_." Buttercup shook her head. "Being shut up in Humperdink's castle was bad enough but I can't imagine being held captive by cursed, killer pirates!"

Will half-smiled. "It was no picnic. And just as I truly thought I was about to die, having my neck slit open over the cursed gold, who walks into the cave but Jack. He managed to get off the island and claimed that Elisabeth was safe and ready to marry Norrington. That was a shock, but I didn't exactly have time to dwell on it.

"Jack explained that Norrington and his men were waiting just outside, ready to gather and destroy the pirates. Barbossa sent almost his entire crew out to meet and obliterate Norrington's crew while two or three pirates, himself, myself and Jack all stayed behind. Jack wascollecting his pay (in gold hoarded from other raids and stashed in the cave)from a deal he made wtih Barbossa beforethe crewleft to defeat Norrington,in gold hoarded from other raids and stashed in the cave. AndI wasbeing held until it was time for them to kill me.

"Then Jack tossed me a sword and we began dueling in the cave with the remaining pirates. Elisabeth showed up to lend me a hand."

"Wait – whose side was Jack on?" Buttercup interrupted.

Will laughed. "That's exactly what Elisabeth had asked. In the end, he was on our side. He'd just been trying to regain his ship and after I lifted the curse by cutting my hand, Jack shot Barbossa, and Norrington's men took all the newly 'uncursed' pirates captive. We all returned to Port Royal."

"And lived happily ever after, right?" Buttercup teased.

"Not quite."

"There's more?" Westley said.

"Yes. After all, Elisabeth was engaged to Norrington who despised pirates. By law, pirates in Port Royal were to be hung. Finally knowing exactly where I belonged, I quickly confessed my love to Elisabeth and freed Jack from the noose."

Westley laughed. "Heck of a way to do it, don't you think?"

Will grinned. "When Jack and I got caught in a corner, Elisabeth broke her engagement from Norrington and convinced him and her father to let Jack go. Jack returned to the Black Pearl with the crew from Tortuga and Elisabeth returnedmy love."

Buttercup sighed.

"So it was happily ever after until Saradon came along." Westley correctly guessed.

"Yes." Will said then added with a grin to Buttercup, "Is everything clear to you now?"

She laughed. "Clear as mud."

* * *

Hours later, after several rests and stops for food and drink, the trio finally crested a final hill and could see the city they were seeking in the near distance. Buttercup let out a relieved and tired sigh, and Will knew exactly how she felt. Though at seeing the gray form of the king's castle, Will felt a surge of energy pump through him. 

_Hold on Elisabeth._ He thought. _I'm almost there._

Westley seemed to guess what Will was thinking and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Inigo should be there by now. I wouldn't worry."

Will smiled smally. "Thanks."

The three were quiet for a few moment's and then Westley said, "Let's take a quick break. After that we can make a final push for town and rest until nightfall."

Will and Buttercup both nodded in agreement.

The three sat comfortably down under the shade of large, leafy tree and were glad to be out of the sun's glaring rays for a little bit. A cool breeze floated by, and it seemed only noticeable as they sat in the shade and non-existent when they were back in the sun.

A few more moments went by with none of them saying anything before Buttercup asked quietly, "You really think Inigo's there by now?"

Westley cracked a lop-sided grin. "Oh, I would count on it."

* * *

Elisabeth ate like she hadn't eaten in days – well, actually, she hadn't. Her hair was tied back so it didn't drag on her plate, so her face was so close to her food that seemed hardly possible. 

"Goodness mistress!" the maid commented. "You're going to hurt yourself! I'm glad your appetite has returned, but mind you _slow down!_"

Elisabeth paid the maid no attention and continued to shovel her food in at top speed. It tasted so good and warm and she immediately regretted not eating before. Her stomach was filling fast and it felt very good indeed to have a full stomach again.

The maid shook her head disapprovingly and then left Elisabeth's room. Elisabeth took advantage of the maid's disappearance to eat even more piggishly – what did she care? No one was watching.

Just then, outside her door, she heard her maid holler, "GOODNESS ME!"

This was followed by the sound of one of the guards yelling, "Stop right there!" And this was followed by the sound of clanking swords, after which came two very loud thuds.

Elisabeth stood, her mouth full to capacity with food, crumbs across her chest, holding a half eaten bun in one hand and half a glass of water in the other. What was going on? _It's Will!_ Her heart screamed in joy.

At that moment, the door burst open and for a split second, Elisabeth's heart soared – it _was_ Will! As soon as the man turned to face her, however, she knew immediately it was not Will. Did not even look very close to Will in appearance, in fact. True the man had dark hair and dark eyes, but he was built physically different then Will, had a darker, thicker moustache and skin a tad paler than Will's.

"Elisabeth, I presume?" the man said, and there was a hint of a Spanish accent to his speech.

She nodded, staring wide-eyed at the man, completely unaware of how she looked.

The man suppressed a smile. "I am Inigo Montoya. Pleased to meet you." He held out his non-sword hand for her to shake.

She went to shake his hand and found a half-eaten bun in her hand. She tried to apologize in embarrassment and only became tenfold more embarrassed as she realized she'd started the apology with her mouth grossly full of food. She set the glass of water and bun down immediately, and chewed hurriedly. She swallowed, her cheeks flaming hot with embarrassment.

"Pleased to meet you too." She mumbled and gently shook Inigo's hand.

"I believe you received a special symbol so you can recognize friend from foe?" Inigo said, ignoring her embarrassing moment.

Elisabeth raised an eyebrow, for a moment unsure of what he was talking about. Then she remembered the piece of burlap with the white flower on it and hastily retrieved it from its hiding place. "This? Is that was this is for?"

Inigo chuckled and pulled a replica of her symbol from his pocket. "I was sent here by Westley, who was recruited by his wife Buttercup, who was written to by her uncle Thomas Fullerbutton, who met Will and learned of your situation and agreed to help."

Elisabeth shook her head, rather confused as to why Inigo knew Will and so on. "I'm sorry… how – "

"No time. We must be off." Inigo said, suddenly very much in a hurry, realizing that he had stayed longer than he should've. "We've lingered too long."

He grabbed Elisabeth's hand and took off running out the door and down the spiraling stairs of the tower.

"Do you know where you're going?" Elisabeth asked, struggling to keep up with Inigo's flying feet.

"Not really, no." Inigo admitted.

"Oh, swell." Elisabeth rolled her eyes.

They jumped over two fallen guards and the maid who'd fainted in the stairwell before reaching the bottom. Inigo stopped abruptly before the exit and cautiously peeked into the adjoining room. There was only one guard, his back to them. Inigo should have smiled at such little opposition, but instead it greatly worried him. He furrowed his brow and scanned the area again to make he'd missed none.

When he entered the castle, practically invisible posing as a daily merchant come to sell goods in the castle courtyard, and when he'd slipped past lazy eyed guards to make it to the tower stairwell, he'd counted at least six or seven guards in this particular room.

The fact that they were all suddenly gone and the lazy eyed guard no longer appeared lazy spelt 'trouble' worse than anything.

"What is – " Elisabeth started.

"Ssh!" Inigo silenced her. Ten to twelve guards were entering the room.

Elisabeth waited a moment before whispering. "What is it?"

Inigo didn't answer. He was stuck. He suddenly couldn't remember what to do next and couldn't seem to figure out how to improvise. He tried to think of every angle, try to recall Westley words for if such an occasion occurred… the more time he took to think, the more time he wasted and the higher the chance of danger became.

Elisabeth sighed irritatedly. "Aren't you going to do something?"

"I'm thinking!" Inigo hissed. He kept himself and Elisabeth in the shadow of the stairwell, yet able to see almost the entire room.

Elisabeth rolled her eyes. "Men." She mumbled, really meaning, "It's so annoying when the guy rescuing you has no back-up plan should his original plan somehow fail." She took a moment to study the increasingly problematic situation and an idea struck her.

The way the stair well was designed, when one went in the doorway you had the obvious choice of going up the stairs that led to the tower, which twisted out of sight almost immediately. One also had the extremely less obvious and rarely chosen choice of moving to the left upon entering the stairway and standing just behind the grounding center pillar that guided the stairs. The pillar completely obscured anything from view. The reason was said to be that a servant used to wait there all night and guide anyone who wished to go to the tower. Since servants no longer were required to do such a pointless task, the tiny area where the servant used to stay was no longer used for anything other than to collect dust.

Elisabeth grabbed the candlestick from the wall behind her head and without a second thought, imitated the maid's voice. "Help me!" she hollered and dropped the candlestick with a loud clang. "Oh help!"

Inigo turned white with anger and fear. "_What are you do – "_

Elisabeth covered his mouth and ducked him and her into the dark hole to the left of the doorway. Her shouts had the desired affect and more than half he guards pounded past to help the maid. The other half remained in the room, looking quite unsure.

Again, without a second thought, Elisabeth jumped up and ran into the room, Inigo's eyes practically popping out of his head. _What was she doing?_ Wisely, however, he remained where he was.

"The maid!" Elisaebth gulped as though she'd bolted down the tower stairs to the startled guards. "Something's happened to her! And the others – the other guards – " she pretended to be out of breath. "Something to them too! I think there's an intruder in the tower!"

A few of the guards took off running to the stairwell, the others stayed behind looking confused.

"I think someone is hiding in my room!" Elisabeth said, doing her best imitation of fear and panic. "I cannot go up there until you find them!" she pleaded with the guards.

The lead guard nodded grimly. "Understood, princess." He gestured to his fellow guards and they too took off into the stairwell.

Elisabeth smirked and placed her hands on her hips.

The moment the guards were around the corner and stomping in a hurry up the stairs, Inigo burst from his hiding place. Elisabeth expected a compliment and was about to fish for one when Inigo grabbed her hand and yanked her along as he took off running again.

"Are you crazy?" he snapped.

"Hey, I just got us _out_ of there!" Elisabeth retorted. "Which was tenfold what _you_ were doing!"

Inigo shook his head, refusing to admit she was right.

They dashed through the castle and again Inigo was disturbed by the lack of guards in most of the rooms. He kept to the edges of the castle, dragging a stumbling Elisabeth behind. Shortly they could see the main door at the end of a long, wide hallway. Inigo refused to think they'd managed this until they were on his horse riding to meet Westley.

And rightly so.

"Inigo – " Elisabeth started, her speech jarred by her running. "I – think – we're – in – trouble!"

"Not yet…" Inigo growled. He could hear guards hollering at him to stop and he saw some running out of other halls to cut him off at the door. He poured on more speed, refusing to give in...

Ten or more guards closed off the escape and began cranking the door shut. Inigo skidded to a halt, Elisabeth fighting to keep her balance at the abrupt stop and go running that Inigo seemed to enjoy. Inigo glanced around for another escape and saw they were now surrounded by all the guards that had been absent moments ago.

"I think we're in trouble." He said and Elisabeth rolled her eyes despite the situation.

"Indeed." She snapped.

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**A/n:** K, the only thing with this chapter: I know Elisabeth wouldn't _actually_ use the word "swell", but it was funny and seemed to randomly fit, so ya. Lol. Dont' bash me too hard. ;) Review me, because honestly, a review can make me smile for like ten minutes straight. Review me and make my day amuch better one. 

And, the usual: Check my profile for the most recent updates. (I updated alot over the month of January and the first week of February, so if you think you missed an update, just go check).


	13. Chapter 13 Castle Infiltration

**A/n:** Forever ago was the last update, I know. But here's the thing. I had this chapter written up a while ago, but I just really hated how it sounded. I tried to edit it and it got worse so I just deleted it and started over. That was like two weeks ago. I left it for several days, thinking about what I wanted to happen and how. Finally, the other day I sat to work on it and the sentences and words come and flowed so much better than before. So, although I'm still not perfectly happy with this chapter, it's a far cry better than it was before. After all that, I hope you enjoy this and of course, don't forget to review. :D**

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Chapter 13

"There it is."

Westley pointed unnecessarily at the castle. They were close now. Close enough to see how many men guarded the only working castle gate, even in the dim torch light that attempted to light the surrounding area. Will mentally counted the guards. There were about thirty-five.

"How do we get in, now that we're here?" Will asked.

Westley smiled. He didn't answer and instead walked over to a large, thick hedge that shielded him from view of the gathered guards. He yanked some branches littering the ground, which Will had thought was a round bush, and revealed a small deep wheelbarrow. From the wheelbarrow, he produced a dark black cloak.

"Quite easily." He began putting the cloak on.

Will quirked an eyebrow. "A cloak, a wheelbarrow and a kerosene lamp?"

Westley smiled again. "Worked once before, didn't it love?"

"It did indeed." Buttercup reached around Westley into the wheelbarrow and produced a box of matches and a lantern full of kerosene.

"What – ?" Will started.

Buttercup giggled at the confused look on Will's face. "It's truly simple, Will." She said. "Westley dresses up in that cloak, a Holocaust Cloak, and stands in the wheelbarrow. We soak the cloak with the kerosene from the lamp, wheel him out towards the guards, and then light him on fire. Westley says some threatening ghostly words, the guards scatter, he sheds the burning cloak, we get the gate key, and we're in."

Will stared at her. "You honestly think that will work?"

Buttercup laughed again. "Well, guards are extremely superstitious, especially when I crazy, scary, on-fire legendary pirate is moving towards them."

"And I told you," Westley added. "It worked once before." He paused. "Though Fezzik's voice is deeper than mine…"

"Where is Fezzik, by the way, darling?" Buttercup asked as she began to soak Westley's cloak with the lantern's kerosene.

"Oh, Inigo said he was visiting his mother in Greenland."

After a few more moments of preparation, the trio moved the wheelbarrow to the fence and gate that came before the courtyard where the guards stood. Westley stood in the wheelbarrow, draped in the long, flowing cloak. Buttercup and Will began to push the wheelbarrow forwards.

In a booming, deep voice, Westley called out, "I'm the Dread Pirate Roberts! I am here, but soon… you will NOT BE HERE!"

Will looked at Buttercup incredulously. "Does this _really_ work?"

Buttercup chuckled. "We told you, it did last time." She paused. "And he doesn't do it quite as well as Fezzik, I don't think." At that moment she struck a match on the side of the wheelbarrow. She used the flame to light the bottom of Westley's cloak, which immediately went up in flames.

"I am the Dread Pirate Roberts! And I'm here, for your _SOUL!_" Westley continued in that frighteningly deep voice.

Will couldn't help but laugh, as the guards trembled and began to run away.

"BEG for your _soul_ from the Dread Pirate Roberts!" Westley pointed a menacing finger forward at the guards.

The guards continued to scatter in fear of the flaming "spirit". The head guard, Yellin, ran back and forth hollering for his men to stand their ground. He called them cowards and fools. He said he couldn't believe this was happening again and he screamed that no matter what, this time he refused to open the gate.

When the last of the guards had fled, all that was left was Yellin, flat against the gate, looking grimly determined. Westley threw off the flaming robe and stepped gracefully off the wheelbarrow.

"You're not getting through!" Yellin bellowed, his red moustache twitching. "I am NOT giving you the key! Not this time!"

Westley unsheathed his sword at the same instant that Will and Buttercup stepped around to either side of Westley, each with their own swords unsheathed as well. With three long sharp swords pointed at his throat, Yellin offered a quivery smile.

"On second thought," he yanked the gate key from the folds of his clothes. "I have dealt with you before and you seem like a decent fellow." He tossed the key into Westley's hands and bolted faster than his men had.

Westley jingled the key triumphantly. "And we're in."

* * *

In mere minutes, Westley, Buttercup and Will were dashing through the castle hallways. They hurriedly disposed of any guards they happened to encounter, and Buttercup lead the way, as she knew the castle's interior best.

"How do you know where they are keeping here?" Will asked, as the three of them made a sharp right turn down a well-lit corridor.

"Simple, really." Westley explained. "He'd start out by keeping her in the highest room of the tallest tower. Once Inigo tried and conveniently failed to rescue her, he will put Ingio in the dungeons, and Elisabeth will be in a room on the entirely opposite side of the castle."

Will half-smiled. "I see you have this all figured out."

Westley smiled back. "Quite."

Buttercup came to an abrupt halt and Westley nearly bumped into her. Will skidded to a stop behind them, narrowly stopping before crashing into them both.

Panting, she stated, "Elisabeth should be in one of the next two rooms, guarded by three guards each." She yanked Yellin's key ring from her pocket. "I'll fetch our Spaniard friend."

"Be careful." Said Westley seriously.

"No trouble at all, darling." Buttercup reassured. She and Westley shared a quick kiss before she dashed off down another hallway.

Westley flexed. "Well, time to get down to business. Ready Will?"

Will chuckled and tensed. "Ready as I'll ever be."

On three, the pair tore around the corner, and began fighting to the six guards standing before them. Two guards immediately threw themselves at Will, who blocked their first attacks with ease. He smiled at them, for he was extremely practiced with a sword and he had fought blood-thirsty pirates before. Small guards were no match for him.

Westley held his own quite comfortably with another two guards, while there were two left to nervously stand watch over each room, hoping their counterparts would prove victorious. Westley blocked and parried, waiting for the opportune moment to strike back. Like when one or the other grew tired, of course.

Will twirled this way and that, surprised by the one guard's expert defense. The other guard really was just waving his sword around dangerously trying to score a hit. Will quickly put that guard out of his way so that he could focus all his energy and skills on the other guard, with the more advanced sword training.

Westley had scarcely disposed of one of the two guards attacking when both of the guards who'd stayed back thus far jumped forward to join in. Westley was unable to see how Will was fairing, though he guessed quite well judging by the fallen guard not far away.

Will parried and blocked repeatedly, just waiting for any moment to strike through a hole in the guard's attacks. He could make out Westley on the other end of the hall, surrounded by no less than three guards. Will intensified his sword strokes in a hope to get to Westley.

Sweat broke out in small beads on Westley's forehead as his sword was one silver blur whipping and weaving in and around three other swords in self defense. He had no openings to attack as the other three swords converged on him and he was continually forced to take several steps backwards to gain some breathing room.

Will aggressively pushed on, and finally in the same instant Will employed Bonetti's defense, the guard tried to attack with an arcing swing. Will found his opening and thrust through. The large and rather skilled guard crumbled with a startled groan to the stone floor. Will took a quick breath and dashed off instantly to Westley's aid.

Westley let his breath out in relief when one, then two guards fell away from him, both shocked when Will was suddenly at their side attacking. The last remaining guard let out a terrified yelp before Westley finished him off. He and Will looked at each other panting.

"Good form." Westley said and wiped his forehead on his sleeve.

"Couldn't let you have them all, now could I?" Will joked with a half-smile.

Westley chuckled.

They took another ten seconds or so to regain their breath before Will looked at the two doors that the set of guards had been blocking entry to. He raised a questioning eyebrow to Westley.

Westley shrugged. "At this point, your guess is as good as mine."

"Right then." Will put his hand on one knob, and Westley did the same on the other door. "One…" he counted.

"Two…" Westley counted.

"Three!" They said in unison and smashed their bodies against the doors they assumed would be locked.

Will's flung open far too easily and he went careening off-balance into a rather shoddy looking store room. Dust coated everything in the darkened room. There were several old trunks, busted torch holders, faded drapes and stained tablecloths, chairs that needed re-upholstering, scratched and broken and a number of other similar things.

"It's a junk room." Will mumbled and wrinkled his nose at the dust he'd kicked up.

At the same moment that Will had burst through his door, Westley had bruised his shoulder on the very solid and locked door before him. He groaned loudly and rubbed his shoulder in the second it took Will to observe the contents of the dingy junk room.

"She's in here… I'm pretty sure." Westley moaned.

Will dashed over to the door. "Elisabeth?" he shouted hopefully through the door.

"Will!" her voice called from the other side. "I didn't know what was going on! Oh, _Will!_" It was not even slightly difficult to miss the happiness and relief in her voice.

"Elisabeth!" Will had both of his hands flat on the door, as if willing himself to melt through the wood to the other side. His heart swelled – finally, _finally_ he had found her.

Westley smiled through the throbbing pain in his shoulder. "Sorry to break this up, Will, my friend, but your reunion I'm sure will be better spent in each other's arms rather than on opposite sides of a door." he gestured to the door unnecessarily. "And time is running short."

Will nodded and reluctantly moved away from the door. He somehow had the feeling that if he moved too far away, Elisabeth was going to be snatched away from him again.

"Do you have a plan for getting into her room?" Will asked.

Westley shrugged and surveyed the door critically with one eye. "Break it down?"

Will snorted.

"You have a better idea?" Westley challenged.

Will chuckled and readied himself as a reply. "On three, I assume?"

Westley half-smiled. "On three."

"One, two – THREE!" they counted at the same time, and then rushed to the door, ramming their shoulders into the thick wood.

The door shuddered uncomfortably, but that was the extent of the damage to the door. Westley and Will hit the door and fell tumbling backwards from the impact, gasping and clutching their shoulders.

"It didn't work!" Elisabeth shouted from inside her room.

"Really?" Westley gasped sarcastically.

Will squeezed his shoulder in pain. "Brilliant idea." He choked out.

"I _asked_ you if you had a better one." Westley retorted through grit teeth and tried rubbing his shoulder to make it feel better.

"I've got an idea!" Elisabeth called.

There was thumping, the sound of something being banged against metal, and then a loud clank. There were footsteps, followed by several loud, echoing bangs and clanks that rattled the door hard. Suddenly, the loudest clank was followed by a thud, and the doorknob fell off. Elisabeth's fingers poked through the hole where the locked knob had been. The door creaked open and Elisabeth stepped triumphantly through, to gaze down at the two stunned and sore men.

"What'd you do?" Westley asked.

"Those metal bedposts were really only good for one thing anyways." Elisabeth replied matter-of-factly and waved her hand towards the interior of the room. The iron bedpost from her bed had been removed, and Elisabeth had used it to slam down and knock off the doorknob. It had worked better than she had expected, which only made the shock on the mens' faces all the more pleasing.

It was Will who stood first and regained his composure.

"Elisabeth." He breathed, and forgot all about the blunt pain in his shoulder and arm.

She smiled smally. "I knew you would come." She whispered.

They embraced and kissed lovingly before Westley cleared his throat. He was on his feet, dusting himself off. He pointed down the hall in the opposite way in which they had come.

"Let's be off, then." He smirked. "And let's finish off the scumbag who started all this."

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**A/n: **Sounds like Saradon is in trouble now... or is he? I guess you'll just have to wait and see...! Anyways, gimme a review and let me know what you thought, as I am glutton for reviews and they make me very, very happy. :D


	14. Chapter 14 The Battle, Part 1

**A/n:** Hey hey hey, here's a new chapter! And boy is it a long one! Haha. I don't really have mcuh to say (odd, I know, lol) so just read on. :)**

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Chapter 14

Will, Westley and Elisabeth raced through the castle, Elisabeth leading the way to the throne room. The three of them efficiently and quietly disposed of any guards they met along the way. Will and Westley were using their swords and Elisabeth was using the iron bedpost she'd used to break the doorknob off her door. It was heavy and a bit cumbersome, but was highly effective for tripping and knocking guards out no matter where she hit them.

"Where did you learn to wield a bedpost like that?" Westley asked jokingly.

"Oh, I've had practice with similar objects." She stated, and winked at Will. He remembered the moments when he and Elisabeth had been in the cave on Isle De Muerta, using that huge scepter-like piece of gold to take out three cursed pirates.

Westley raised his eyebrows in surprise, but said nothing. Instead, he changed the subject. "Oh, and pardon me for asking, Elisabeth. But, if you could get out of your room so easily, how come you did not until _we_ came for you?"

"Hardly thought of it, now did I? There was no way I, by myself, could have taken on all four of those guards outside my door." She explained. "And even if I _was_ able to, how would I have gotten out of the castle, alone, with so many guards guarding the only gate? And with Yellin possessing the only key? Without help - "

"Alright, alright." Westley conceded with a grin. "Point proven."

The three ran on and when they reached the throne room, panting hard, they paused for a moment around the corner to catch their breath.

"Ok." Westley spoke between breaths. "Once we're… in there… take down… the guards… first. Don't… let him… escape."

There was no question as to who "he" was.

"What about… Buttercup… and Inigo?" Will asked, also panting.

"They'll be here." Westley gulped up more air before his breathing was almost normal. When they all had prepared themselves mentally for the next battle, sure to be a large one, and when each of them had more or less caught their breath, they whipped around the corner. They took care of the handful of guards in front of the throne room before flinging open the massive wood doors and plunging head first into a very big battle indeed.

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Inigo's eyes were shut and his head was resting against the icy cold stone wall. He was shivering and hungry and a little roughed up, but other than that, he was quite fine. This was all part of the plan. He didn't expect himself and Elisabeth to escape earlier, though that _would_ have made things a lot easier. Thus why he had had no plan for getting out of the castle, because it technically wasn't part of _the_ plan.

For now, he was locked up in one of the deepest, dirtiest dungeons he had ever seen, but he knew Buttercup ought to be on her way shortly if not already. Providing Westley hit no major snags, Inigo was confident that Buttercup would be here with jingling keys within the hour.

He shifted and stretched, trying to ignore the stiffness in his neck and the start of pins and needles in his legs. _Soon._ He thought. _She'll be here quite soon. No need to worry._

As if on cue, there was some scuffling and shouting not too far away. More shouting followed by a very loud thud. Running footsteps, shouts, and another very large thump. Quiet for a moment.

Inigo sat up, clutching the greasy and frozen handlebars, his face practically pressed between them, trying to see what was going on.

Jingling of keys, the lantern down the hall flickering… and then growing brighter.

Inigo held his breath.

"Inigo?" a female voice called.

Inigo grinned. Right on time. "Over here!" he waved his arm madly from behind the bars.

Buttercup dashed toward him with the lantern and the keys. "Are you alright?"

"Fine. How's everything upstairs?"

"Left them to get you. They were trying to break out Elisabeth from her room." Buttercup said as she tried key after key in the rusty lock on Inigo's prison cell.

"Now would have been a good time to have Fezzik." Inigo mumbled.

"Hey, speaking of Fezzik. Where is he, anyways? I thought you two were never apart?" Buttercup found the correct key and the lock clanked reluctantly open. She pulled it off and stood to open the door fully.

"Well, usually we are not." Inigo admitted and thankfully stepped out of the grimy cell. He and Buttercup quickly made their way to the door leading out of the dungeons. "But I was busy captaining the _Revenge_ and he hadn't seen his mother in so long, so he decided to take leave of our ship for while to visit his mother in Greenland."

"Oh, well that's nice." Buttercup gracefully stepped over the unconscious bodies of the two guards she had taken out to get to Inigo.

"Yes, I thought so. I got a letter from him about a week ago." Inigo followed Buttercup's lead and casually stepped over the guards and out the dungeon door. "He's having a wonderful time and he'll be returning by the end of the month, so I'm to save him a spot in the Mess Hall on the ship for dinner."

Buttercup laughed and shut the dungeon door behind them. She locked it with a smart clicking noise, and she Inigo hurried on to the throne room.

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"This is it, Saradon!" Westley shouted. "You have no where to hide!"

Saradon looked up from talking to his Head Guard with mild surprise. "Oh. It's you."

Elisabeth tightened the grip on her bedpost fiercely, eyeing the guards in the room dangerously. Will moved a little closer to Elisabeth, silently daring anyone to even come _near _her. Westley had his sword raised quite high in an attack manner, and he remembered the last time he'd seen Saradon.

"_Drop… your… sword."_

_Humperdinck obediently and sacredly let his sword clatter to the ground._

"_Have a seat."_

"How nice of you to drop by." Saradon said sarcastically, as if they were some particularly unsavory relatives he had been expecting for several hours now.

Westley shook his head. "I left you alive once, and I shall not be making the same mistake twice."

Saradon snorted skeptically. "I'm sure. However, Hero Boy, I am not sure if you noticed how utterly outnumbered you are." He gestured to the guards scattered all around the throne room. It looked like thirty to fourty. No big deal for five well-trained, experienced and rather passionate people.

The guards began to move together towards the center of the room, and as they gathered, it was became unnervingly clear how many there actually were.

Will glanced at Elisabeth nervously. Last time he'd fought against this many – well, come to think of it, he hadn't. Unless the time he saved Jack from a hanging in Port Royal counted. But he'd definitely lost that one, until Elisabeth had convinced Norrington and her father to let him and Jack go.

Elisabeth looked just as nervous, the grip on her bedpost turning to a white-knuckled one. _We can do it._ She thought and hoped Will could read that message in her eyes. _We've fought totally evil pirates that can't die. How hard can this be?_

Westley was bobbing his head and mouthing numbers as he tried to count. He let out a frustrated noise and shouted, "Will you stop _moving!_ I'm trying to count!"

The guards looked startledly at one another and stopped moving. Many seemed quite confused and several looked back at Saradon, wondering what to do next. Saradon rolled his eyes.

"Ah… fourty-eight… fourty-nine…" counted Westley. "Fifty… fifty-one. Fifty-one?"

"Close. Fifty-six." Saradon said lazily, as if they were merely counting jelly-beans from a Guess How Many jar.

"Darn." Westley shrugged and Elisabeth exchanged worried and disbelieving glances with Will who also shrugged.

"Down to business, then?" Saradon suggested.

"Uh, well, you see, two of my party is missing…" Westley started, checking back over his shoulder twice to see if Buttercup and Inigo had arrived yet.

Elisabeth couldn't help but shake her head in disbelief. This wasn't a business meeting to be settled over tea! They were about to kill each other!

"Too bad. It looks like you will have to start without them." Saradon's face took a twisted evil grin, one that was highly unpleasant and made everyone, including the guards, quite uncomfortable.

Three guards near the doors began closing them.

"Wait!" someone shouted.

Before anyone knew where the shout had come from, Buttercup and Inigo slide into the throne room, panting and sweating, each holding their swords out.

"Late." Westley mumbled.

"The dungeons are rather _far away_, _Dear_." Buttercup snapped.

Inigo ducked his head and muffled his laughter.

"Enough!" Saradon thundered. "This is not a bloody tea party! Guards, _kill them ALL!_"

The doors snapped shut in the same instant that Saradon had shouted, and all the rest of the fifty-six guards unsheathed their swords simultaneously. There was an instant where the guards took slow, tentative steps forward and while Westley, Buttercup, Inigo, Will and Elisabeth calculated their odds and silently picked which guards they would take on first.

The next instant, everything broke loose.

Saradon sat smugly on his throne, quite removed from the action, his robes spread out elegantly across the cushioned seat underneath him. His elbow was supported by the armrest and his chin leaned into the palm his hand. His arrogant smile never wavered as he watched Westley's rather small group fight for their lives against immeasurably impossible odds.

It was almost too easy.

* * *

Will blocked, parried, thrust, twirled, slashed, poked, jabbed, cut, shifted, and continued to drive back or finish his attackers. He was tiring, but he would keep it up forever if he had to. He would die before he let anyone hurt Elisabeth. Who, he had to admit, was holding her own quite well.

Elisabeth and Buttercup were working together extremely well. Elisabeth would swing her bedpost around and Buttercup would duck or move out of the way, while the guards did not. Buttercup used her sword to take out any guards who were distracted by Elisabeth's flying bedpost. Then the girls would switch weapons with two smooth tosses, just to really mess the guards up. They seemed to be taking down more guards between the two of them then Inigo, Westley and Will put together. The only problem was that their attacks were slowly beginning to lose intensity as their muscles began to ache with effort.

Westley and Inigo were back to back, using different advanced techniques they had learned from their sword training to ward off their own attackers. Though they were making a gap in the guards' ranks, it wasn't a huge gap and they too were tiring slowly.

All five of them were sweating profusely and it was beginning to be a struggle to keep the guards back.

Saradon continued to grin unflinchingly from his fancy throne, not concerned in the slightest. Though there were approximately only twenty to thirty guards left fighting among the dead and unconscious ones littering the floor, that was enough of a challenge for five, he thought.

When someone's sword slipped through Will's defense, it left him with a nasty cut across his right arm and shoulder. He immediately turned up the ferocity in his attacks to prevent any other close calls. He was quite thankful the cut was not deep enough to hinder his sword skills, for he was ruddy awful with his left hand.

Buttercup and Elisabeth were backed into a corner and running out of steam. Elisabeth was now using the bedpost as purely defensive while Buttercup thrust and jabbed relentlessly. The guards did not seem to be making any headway, thought neither was Buttercup.

Inigo continued his aggressive techniques while Westley attempted to focus more on the defensive side of things. He wasn't back to back with Inigo anymore, though he was near enough offer immediate aid if it came to it. One hulking guard in particular was really starting to annoy Westley.

There were still about fifteen to twenty guards left, and this was when Saradon's smile faltered ever so slightly. From fifty-six to about twenty? Just the five of them? But the flicker of a faltering smile was only slight. The five were becoming more tired by the moment, and it was only a matter of time before one of them made a mistake and fell to join the dead on the floor. There was no way the five of them could take down _all_ the guards.

Will was losing ground and stepping back with each new stab from his attacker. He had to defend against the one directly in front of him and he had to continually swing his blade in different arcs to his left and right to keep his defense up. He had no room to attack anyone himself in this increasingly dangerous three on one situation.

Buttercup grit her teeth and was forcing out attacks between weakening defensive moves. In split second, a sword tip penetrated between her slashes, and she only had time to move a tiny bit right so the sword bit into her left arm instead of her heart. She cried out and stepped backwards so her back was flat to the wall.

Elisabeth grabbed Buttercup's sword immediately to take up the slack and fill the hole. "Are you alright?" she asked without looking at Buttercup, for fear she would be next. Elisabeth jabbed the bedpost forward to knock one guard down at the knee. He howled in pain and she pierced another guard who clearly thought all her attention was on the guard she'd knocked down with bedpost.

Buttercup sucked in her breath sharply and clutched her arm. "I'll be fine." She said, her eyes shut tight. Blood was squeezing between her fingers through her shirt. It'd been a sharp, deep, stab but it could have been her heart. In a manner of speaking, she supposed she was quite thankful her arm was throbbing and hurting excruciatingly.

Westley had spared the smallest of glimpses to see if it was Buttercup or Elisabeth had been hurt and it cost him. One guard sliced at his face, leaving a long gash on his cheek, while another pierced a wide cut across his leg. Thankfully, his pants took a lot of the sting of the cut on his leg. He angrily lashed out.

Though frightened at seeing his wife shrink back into the corner behind Elisabeth, a fire was rekindled at seeing her injuries. He would not let them hurt himself, but he did not even want them _near_ Buttercup. They were going to pay for even being in this room. Instantly, the two guards who'd cut him were down.

Inigo too had spared the tiniest of looks to see who was injured it. He'd jumped back when the sword had come at his neck, resulting in a skim across his chest. He noticed out of the corner of his eye how hard Westley was suddenly fighting again, and copied his friend's passion for winning. No matter how tired or injured he got, he _would_ finish and win this fight. He'd beaten Count Rugen nearly on the verge of death, so surely he could beat down fifteen guards with one hand tied behind his back – figuratively.

Saradon sat forward, his pulse quickening a bit. They'd hurt Buttercup, and yet they were fighting _harder_. Oh, this was getting a little too much. It wasn't good. Not good at all. There were barely twelve or so guards left, and the odds were sliding in Westley's favor now, which greatly concerned Saradon.

Will fought in such a way that he maneuvered to the corner that Elisabeth and Buttercup where trapped in. If he could fight beside Elisabeth, their chances were better at polishing off a few more guards than if they continued fighting alone.

Westley and Inigo rejoined forces, again back to back and now also fighting their way over to the corner with others. The guard currently before Westley sneered.

"You cannot win this. You're already weakening." He said snidely and lunged at Westley. "We are no match for you."

"You're right." Westley said and jammed his sword forward, stabbing the rude guard soundly in the chest. "You're not."

Saradon shifted in his chair. He should have known better. Westley was cunning. He knew exactly how to fight to his advantage. And apparently his companions knew how to fight extremely well also, or they'd have been done long ago. He should have ordered the guards to attack all at once, on one or two of his enemies at the same moment. That would have stopped them dead – literally – quite quickly. He would have had to find another bride, but that was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

But guards were stupid. That's why they were guards. Most of them had hung back, trying not to get in the way of the stronger or more skilled ones, hoping the battle would be over before they had to be involved, or assuming there was no way the five against fifty-six would ever survive, so they might as well not bother. If only twenty at a time attacked five, it was far easier for them to survive. Instead of the fight getting harder for the tired five, it almost seemed to be getting easier, as the more scared, less skilled, or slow guards were the ones who were left, as they were the ones who had originally hung back.

And Saradon, too, had been confident in the odds – fifty-six against five. He'd not thought to order his guards to _all_ concentrate their efforts or at least _coordinate_ their efforts. Now it was too late. He watched three more guards drop like flies as Westley, the Spaniard and the foreigner joined the women in the corner. One – no, two – more guards were felled by the group. Now Saradon was sweating, and he wasn't even fighting.

It was time to bring out the big guns.

Saradon stood and walked a step to the right, where there was long, thick embroidered rope hanging against the wall. Saradon gave it two sharp jerks, and resumed his seat on his shining throne. As he waited, he fought the panic rising inside of him.

_No._ He thought. _You overcame this. You overcame this the last time he was here. That's why you changed your name. To show you were no longer a coward and no longer afraid_.

Painfully, in just a split second in time, he recalled the last meeting he'd had with Westley.

* * *

**A/n:** Sort of an awkward spot to stop, I know. But this chapter was becoming massive and I had to break it off somewhere. And even though I went over this chapter several times, I don't wuite like it somehow. So I hope you guys do. Leave me a review and tell me what you thought.

P.S. _If Diggory Hadn't Died_ is temporairly delayed and has been pulled out of the update schedule b/c my beta and I have been having some trouble with the last chapter and she has an extremely busy life. So it'll be up when it gets up. Sorry for the delay, all.


	15. Chapter 15 The Battle, Part 2

**A/n:** Another update, wahoo. This chapter is "The Battle, Part 2", so enjoy. This was kind of a fun chapter to write, and I'm working ont he next chapter rigth away as well, so the next update should not be too far in the future. My goal is to fully finish my "big four" by the summer, so I'm working hard to make that goal (just for you guys) :D. **

* * *

Chapter 15**

_"Tie him up." Westley said and Buttercup snatched up some ropes to do just that. Make them as tight as you like."_

_And she did._

_"Ow!" Humperdinck complained, but to no avail._

_The Spaniard burst into the room covered in blood. "Where's Fezzik?"_

_"I thought he was with you." Westley answered._

_Humperdinck stared at the Spaniard. If he ran off down the hall with Rugen, and now returned covered in blood, it seemed highly likely there was a dead Count in the castle._

_"No." the Spaniard answered._

_"In that case – ooo…" Westley swayed and his knees gave out. He caught himself on the bedpost and Humperdinck's eyes widened. Had he just given up to a man who could barely stand?_

_"Help him." Ingio said._

_"Why does Westley need helping?" asked Buttercup, finally done tying the mercilessly tight knots on Humerpdinck's wrists and ankles. He hoped he would still have some circulation when he was finally found and rescued._

_"Because he has no strength." The Spaniard explained, and Buttercup rushed to Westley's side._

_"I knew it!" Humperdinck exclaimed, no longer even the afraid of his opponent. "I knew you were bluffing! I knew he was – "_

_The very sharp and red sword tip of the Spaniard's sword was suddenly at Humperdinck's neck._

_" – bluffing." He finished feebly._

_"Shall I dispatch him for you?" the Spaniard didn't take his eyes of Humperdinck who gulped and shrank further into the wooden chair he was seated on. _

_'_Don't kill me.'_ He thought. _'Whatever you do, don't kill me.'

_"Thank you, but no." said Westley and the sword tip was graciously removed from being an inch away from slitting Humperdinck's throat. He would never admit how much he was trembling with relief and fear at that moment. "Whatever happens I want him to live a long life, alone with his cowardice."_

_Westley had glared daggers at Humperdinck who had involuntarily shrunk in his seat again. Even knowing that Westley had no strength and was just going to leave him there was not enough to stop his knees from knocking.

* * *

_

So he'd watched them escape. He'd been found sometime later, and the ropes Buttercup had so "graciously" tied on him, left deep red marks and his skin had been an unnatural purple color until the blood was circulating in them again.

He'd gone to his room and stared in the mirror for a very, very long time, before coming to a decision. Then he went to bed and sleep peacefully, despite everything that had happened.

In the morning he'd risen, and purchased a new outfit. Then he'd burned all of his old clothes and had the castle barber cut his hair very, very short. He changed his name to Saradon, and had the palace servants completely redecorate his room. Nothing was to be left of his former self.

Weeks later, his father had died, followed shortly by his mother. He became King and ruled his kingdom with a stiff hand. Not a cruel hand, just a firm one. He'd learned to instill fear into those beneath him, and had gotten very good at it. He had not felt his own fear since he had watched the Man In Black exit the palace on a white horse.

* * *

The split second was over and Saradon was back in the present, staring icily down at the panting crew who had somehow managed to take on a massive number of guards and come out more or less on top. Westley gulped in a few more breaths before straightening importantly and speaking as though he had not been fighting a fierce battle only moments ago. 

"Let Buttercup out." He stated plainly, and Saradon had to chuckle. Did he really think he was just going to _let_ them – even one of them – _go_?

"And why in the world would I do such a thing?" Saradon said with an air of someone speaking down to a child's outrageous request.

"Because she's injured. She needs help. If she stays here, she might die."

"Correction, she _will_ die. As will you all, as I will be killing you myself," said Saradon coldly.

"Please." Westley spoke so sincerely and calmly, it struck a cord in Saradon's heart, surprising him.

He spared a glance at Buttercup, and saw she indeed looked quite rough. The injury she'd sustained had obviously been a bad one. She was white as paper, and breathing very fast and shallow. She was clutching her arm with the opposite hand, and her white shirt was soaked red with blood. He felt the slightest twinge of emotion at the sight.

But it was not enough to sway him. Not even close.

"That's really too bad. However, as I said, she will die here anyway, so it really doesn't matter." Saradon shifted in his seat casually and studied Westley's reaction carefully.

Westley straightened his shoulders back a little farther and lifted his chin slightly. "Well, if it doesn't matter, and she'll die anyways, then I see no reason for you to keep her here."

Saradon rolled his eyes. "Here's a thought that may or may not have occurred to you. I let her out that door and she's really not as bad off as she's appearing right now, and goes off to get some help from your little friends somewhere, who come in here and the I not only outnumbered, but _severely _outnumbered. Not entirely fair, is it?"

"Valid point." Westley agreed with no emotion. "But suppose she really _is_ as bad off as she says she is, and goes straight to a medical center?"

"I can't really count on that, now can I?"

"Suppose you let her go. Just her."

"I will take her." Inigo suddenly volunteered firmly.

Westley exchanged glances with Inigo before continuing, slightly less confident than before, though he picked it back up the more he talked.

"Alright, suppose you let Inigo take Buttercup out that door, out the castle, and to a medical facility. Chances are, you have many more guards stationed about the castle, so it would prove difficult for Inigo and injured Buttercup to get out of the castle." Westley reasoned and took a small breath. "And I also am going to assume, that since Buttercup is in a condition that is growing steadily worse, and probably won't be able to make it to a medical facility on her own, Inigo will _have_ to help her all the way. He won't be able to break off for help."

Saradon nodded slowly, considering, and looking for the loop-holes in Westley's words.

"The nearest medical facility is about… well, it's on the entire other side of the kingdom." Westley continued. "Which, by the way, you out to change. It's extremely inconvenient." He added.

"I will keep that in mind." Saradon nodded accordingly.

"So it would take them a long time to get there, providing Buttercup can make it." Westley glanced anxiously at his wife, who was now even paler than before, though it hardly seemed possible, and was visibly in a lot of pain, as she was supported by Elisabeth and Inigo. He cleared his throat slightly before moving on with his plea. "You may or may not believe this part, but I will tell you it is true. Our nearest 'friends' that we could get for help are currently on a ship, sailing around, who-knows-where. They were to meet us some time from now, and it would be quite impossible to get immediate help from them. As for townspeople, I know none of them, and neither do Will or Elisabeth. The next nearest help would be far out in the country near my home."

Saradon nodded slowly, mulling this over. It was very possible Westley was an excellent liar – after all, he had managed to convince Saradon at one point in time that he was extremely strong and able when he was really weak and pitiful. And yet his words had an undeniable ring of truth to them. Saradon felt it, heard it, and try as he might, couldn't ignore it. He had banished his fear long ago, which had been the factor that had forced him to give in to the Man In Black all that time ago. But here and now, there was no fear, and though he did not like it, he could see Westley's point of view.

Westley took another breath before continuing once again. "So they would not be able to bring help back. Suppose you post extra guards at the entrance and barricade the doors to this throne room. Will, Elisabeth and myself will have no choice but to fight. And supposing we lose, you can always send guards after Inigo and Buttercup to… arrest them."

The last bit seemed to cause Westley a bit of difficulty to say, which Saradon found extremely fascinating. Westley clearly did not like the idea he was presenting, and Saradon had observed this discomfort in that flash of hesitation. Westley had expertly rearranged his features immediately, putting the confident mask on once again. But Saradon had glimpsed that odd unease in Westley, and it pleased him.

_That_ was what swayed the decision.

Unfortunately, Westley's arguments made sense. They felt true. Saradon had grown to be no fool, and though he did not believe all pieces of Westley's story – that felt true or not – he wanted more than anything at that moment to be the one to press his sword tip to Westley's throat and finally be rid of him. He knew he would never be able to accomplish such a thing with all of Westley's companions present, so knocking two of them out of the picture with no fight required, seemed very well-thought out indeed.

Saradon was suddenly filled with a strange, unexpected confidence. This was going to be Westley's undoing. His love for his wife. All Saradon had to do now was goad Westley into believing he could be the only one to defeat Saradon once and for all.

A wicked smile made its way across Saradon's face. "Well thought out, Westley. Well thought out indeed." He paused and chuckled. "Let her go then."

Westley looked instantly shocked, but just as fast became coolly confident once more. Again, Saradon was delighted. As much as Westley had cajoled to get Buttercup released, it was apparent he had _truly_ not been expecting for Saradon to _agree_ with him. And, to be honest, Saradon hadn't either.

The others stared up at Saradon with open shock.

"Hurry up." He said roughly. "Before I change my mind."

Inigo hastily supported Buttercup as best he could, and swiftly made his way out the door, Buttercup moaning the whole way. Saradon smoothly stood and yanked the rope against the wall three times, before settling into his chair again.

"What was that?" Will asked worriedly.

Saradon smiled cruelly. "I asked more guards to cover the throne room door and the entrance to the palace."

"That's handy." Westley nodded with his bottom lip stuck out as if to say, 'Wow, I'm impressed'.

"Why didn't you tell them you have intruders on the loose or something?" Will demanded suspiciously.

Saradon shrugged casually. "We don't have a code for that."

Before anyone could comment or question further, a panel in the wall just back and to the right of Saradon in his chair, opened. All eyes turned to it, and Saradon's eyes narrowed viciously at the three left in the throne room before turning to the wall as well. Out of the room apparently behind the wall panel, came a creaky looking old man, dressed in brilliant white robes and carrying a menacing looking white stick. It had a fist-sized ball on top, with white claws of the staff enclosing around it. The ball looked misty blue and black and frighteningly somehow alive.

The old man trudged up to the throne and bowed his head to Saradon. "You rang?" he said in a deep, bone-chilling voice. Even Saradon shivered slightly, though he should have been used to the man by now.

"I did. What took so long?"

The old man rolled his eyes slightly behind the curtain of white hair that hung down, hiding his face. "I was busy."

"Doing what?"

"Business." The tone in which the man said this, was so sinister, the temperature of the room seemed to drop a notch and it left little doubt that his business was anything but something of a horrible nature.

Saradon fought back another shiver at the man's words and cleared his throat hurriedly. "Right. Of course." He said, attempting to sound like he knew exactly what the man was talking about and failing miserably. "Anyways, I have some new business for you."

The man raised his head, and did not look at Westley, Will and Elisabeth, who were now standing close together with their swords out very defensively. He curled his lip into the smallest and scariest of sneers. "Really." It was not a question, but a statement as though he truly had better things to do than the King's business.

Saradon gestured to the trio. "Kill the girl and the dark one, leave the blonde one for me to _deal with_." Saradon purposely spat the words 'deal with' to anger Westley. It worked, for at that moment, Westley gripped his sword tighter so his knuckles turned white and his eyes glinted fiercely.

"_Really_…" The man seemed suddenly in a much better mood than before, which was somehow far more disturbing than his previous attitude of disgust. He turned his frozen black eyes on the trio, who all took an instinctive step back. The man seemed further amused by this, as his lips slid into a smile that made the hair on Elisabeth's neck stand up and goosebumps appear rapidly across her body.

"And please it make fast, Tythe. I don't have all day to wait for them to die. I have that dinner with the Duke of Dumont and Lord of Netherfield later this evening." Saradon drawled, and Westley seemed to ignite ever so slightly more. Saradon had to try not to smile.

"Of course, my lord." Tythe bowed deeply before striding behind the throne to the left half of the platform. He smiled again, showing sickly yellow teeth. "Come out to play, little ones." He taunted.

Will glanced at Westley. "What now?"

Westley's eyes were trained unmovingly on Saradon and they seemed to be sharing some sort of non-verbal exchange. Through the smallest gestures – eyebrow raises, lip curls, weight shifts, posture changes, narrowing of the eyes – they were communicating, and both were looking angrier by the second.

"Westley?" Elisabeth ventured.

Still not taking his eyes off Saradon, Westley said. "Take on the man. Leave Saradon to _me._"

"But – " Will started.

"Just do it." Westley cut Will off harshly. "And if you finish first, don't help me. I have to do this myself."

"Westley – " Elisabeth tried, but again Westley firmly interrupted.

"Just go."

Will looked unsurely to Elisabeth, who took a breath, and steadied herself. She gave Will a tiny nod. "It's us now." She whispered, and looked grimly up at Tythe.

Will nodded slowly. "Just us."

* * *

There were a few moments of hesitation as Saradon gracefully descended the steps from his throne off the platform to level ground to come face to face with the Man In Black, Westley. Saradon drew his sword and held it poised, ready for Westley's attack. 

And in those few moments, Will and Elisabeth took several steps towards Tythe, solemn and determined, and uncertainly waiting to see why this old man had been called in to dispose of them.

Tythe raised the staff he was carrying and held it horizontal at shoulder level, the eerie blue ball aimed at Will and Elisabeth. His other arm was raised in a similar pose, and as he bent his knees, he suddenly looked strong, not creaky, and ready to strike like a viper or a particularly dangerous cat.

Westley raised his chin defiantly at Saradon, ready to take down the man he would call his nemesis. He would end it this time. He would finish Saradon and never let him darken any doorway ever again.

He was expecting Saradon to wheedle him with insults, and Westley knew Saradon had an unfair advantage. Saradon had not been fighting for his life against fifty something guards, but was well rested from his time of merely observing the battle. Westley knew Saradon was going to get under his skin with his taunts, though Westley was going to throw every bit of energy and training he had ever known into this fight, and keep it controlled. If he was going to lash out in anger – which was Saradon was going to want – he was sure to make a mistake. That's how Inigo had finally lost to Westley all those years ago: he'd gotten desperate and had lashed out in frustration.

Westley squared his shoulders and stared into Saradon's blazing eyes. "You won't get away this time." He rumbled.

"Neither will you." Saradon countered threateningly.

All parties stared at each other for another second, before both battles broke loose at the same instant. The second part of this fight for life had begun.

* * *

**A/n:** Alrighty, what did ya think? Review me and tell me your thoughts! Oh, and also: in this story I wrote in a few "nods" (as I call them) to other things/books/movies/stuff and if you think you know what they are/were, tell me in your review. If you can pick them all out I'll give you a piece of my mommy's icebox cake (mmmmm!). Lol. 


	16. Chapter 16 Side One of the Final Battle

**A/n: **Ok, to start off, pretty well no one managed to get my "nods" at things in the last chapter - which I am not surprised at, lol. I did try to make them rather vague. So, for inquiring minds, I will now reveal the "nods".

Tythe's attire (white robe, white staff, white hair) is my nod to Lord of the Rings (Saruman). Just to be clear, Tythe is _not_ Saruman. He's just dressed like him. Second: Him saying "You rang?" was a small nod to Lurch, of the Addams' Family. Third:When Saradon said, "I have that dinner with the Duke of Hilvalle and Lord of Netherfield later this evening." I was discreetly referring to Back to the Future (Duke of Hilvalle Hillvalley) and Pride and Prejudice with Keira Knightley (Lord of Netherfield Netherfield is the home of Mr. Bingley).

I told you they were meant to be obscure and discreet, LOL. And, **Smithy**, since I can't review reply you or PM you or e-mail you, lol, the recipe for the ice-box cake is at the end of this chapter. :D

Oh, and one last thing before I end this rather long author's note: This chapter is a kicker and I'm _DYING_ to know what you guys think! So enjoy, and review me. :)

* * *

Chapter 16

Tythe smiled wickedly as Will and Elisabeth walked very cautiously forward, clutching each other's arms. They did not know what Tythe was capable of, or why he had a staff instead of a sword to fight. However, they were quite sure that the staff was somehow more dangerous than a sword.

"I wouldn't come too close, if I were you." Tythe warned, still grinning unpleasantly.

"And why is that?" Will questioned uncomfortably.

"First, let's clean things up." He said and waved his staff around. The ball glowed slightly, just a small blue glow, and all the unconscious or dead guards littering the room abruptly disappeared.

Will looked at Elisabeth and swallowed nervously. "What exactly have we gotten ourselves into?"

Elisabeth was paler than before. "I'm not sure I want to know." She whispered.

"What – or who – exactly are you?" Will ventured, speaking to Tythe.

Tythe's answer came in the form of an attack. He suddenly twirled his staff in a circle before jabbing it out towards the pair again. He viciously spoke some words that sounded like they were from another language. The ball on the end of the staff glowed suddenly white, before brilliant white light shot from the staff, hitting Will and Elisabeth square in the chest and sending them skidding across the floor on their backs.

"I said I didn't want to know." gasped Elisabeth, clutching her chest and fighting to regain her breath. The light had felt like getting a chair in the chest and Elisabeth swore something must have been broken in her body on impact.

"I am a mage. Commonly known as a wizard." Tythe laughed nastily. "And I'm not done with you yet. Come back and fight."

Before anything else could happen, Will and Elisabeth dove for cover. The best thing was a large table set against the wall, so before Tythe had made another move, the two of them had turned over the table and were behind it, still trying to regain their breath.

"That won't stop me, you know." Tythe said dangerously. "But I'm not completely merciless, so I'll let you have you're little idea of shelter."

"Now what do we do?" Elisabeth asked in a panic. "As long he's got that stick he can do anything he chooses. He could probably kill us right now, but he's just waiting for the opportune moment!" she paused and looked irritated. "I'm starting to sound like Jack!"

"So then we need to take the stick away from him somehow." said Will grimly.

"How do you suppose we can do that?"

"Well, there's two of us and one of him. There's got to be a way to get to him, because we_ do _outnumber him, after all."

Elisabeth sighed and rubbed her temples. "Let's go. Before he changes his mind and zaps away our only bit of cover."

* * *

Westley and Saradon traded attacks and blocks rather casually, as if this were nothing for than an innocent practice duel at tea time. Saradon had not begun throwing insults yet, as both wanted to feel the other's style out first, it seemed a silent mutual agreement to hold back all aggression for the time being. 

Westley kept the energy and anger he had bottled deep, ready to uncork it on command. He had mastered this control over the past few years, readying himself for the day he knew he would be facing Humperdinck again, not knowing just how soon that day was to come.

At the moment went Tythe sent Will and Elisabeth hurtling backwards across the floor, Westley flicked his eyes ever so briefly over at Tythe and back to Saradon. He raised his eyebrow questioningly.

"You have a wizard?" he said.

"Mage, actually. That's what he prefers to be called." Saradon answered matter-of-factly. "But yes."

"Bit unfair, isn't it?" Westley indicated Will and Elisabeth with a tiny cock of his head. "Pitting a scary-looking mage against two foreigners who have likely never even heard of one, let alone have to fight one."

Saradon shrugged. "They're terribly fashionable nowadays. Pretty well any Evil King, Power-Hungry Leader or Cruel Dictator has one. They double as a Twisted Royal Advisor, too, so that's helpful."

Westley shrugged also. "Well, I suppose you can't really help it then."

And they returned to their duel, turning up the heat on their opponent a few notches.

For several minutes, they fought without a word, slowly fighting harder and then harder again to match and top one another. Westley was already feeling his muscles ache from fatigue because of having used so much of himself in the previous battle, but he only pushed harder, determined to win and not give Saradon an inch of advantage.

Saradon was surprised by Westley's stamina, and decided it was past time to play to Westley's weaknesses.

"Tired?" he asked.

"Not at all. You?" Westley responded readily.

Saradon shook his head. "Not even a little bit." He flashed the smile he used when he needed to unnerve people, and was disappointed to see no change in Westley. He fought a little harder, jabbing in several more attacks and forcing Westley on the defensive.

"I can tell you're tired, you know." He said in a tone that got under everyone's skin.

Westley narrowed his eyes a tiny bit. "How is that?"

Saradon smirked. "My attacks are stronger than yours."

"Really?" Westley abruptly amped up his own attacks, startling Saradon and taking him back a step.

"Impressive." Saradon mumbled between pressed lips. _Think_. He thought. _Push it._ "I wonder how Buttercup's faring about now?"

Westley faltered ever so slightly but recovered just as fast. "She's with Inigo. She'll be just fine."

"Ah, you hadn't thought of her since she left?" Saradon said condescendingly and made a _tut-tutt-_ing­ noise. "Seems hardly a way of showing you care, wouldn't you say?"

Westley said nothing, but Saradon could tell he'd struck a nerve. It gave him the smallest of advantages and he was determined to keep it.

"She was wonderful, you know." He said snidely. "When she was _mine_."

"She was never yours." Westley said through grit teeth and Saradon could see his eyes blazing with anger.

"Oh, yes she was. She agreed to marry me, and she was going to _stay_ with me too. But if it weren't for – "

"You trying to murder her." Westley cut in sharply.

Saradon grit his own teeth. _That backfired slightly._

Westley smiled a little. "I'm sure you haven't forgot that detail, have you?" he paused. "Or how _she_ tied you to a chair? How _we_, your supposed inferiors, quite easily outsmarted you? Not that it was hard – "

"Shut up!" Saradon barked, not enjoying the fact that the tables had turned. He was supposed to be the one issuing insults and provoking his enemy, not the other way around.

"We used your _fear_ against you – "

"I said _shut up!_" Saradon lashed out furiously and Westley leapt back accordingly, though Saradon's sword grazed his chest, ripping a hole in his shirt and drawing blood.

Saradon gained a minute amount of confidence and advantage back, seeing a few drops of blood coming from the shallow cut on Westley's chest. He pulled himself together and pushed harder.

Westley was fuming from the insults and jabs, and swung his sword in the same reckless, random arc that Saradon had used. He didn't expect it to work, and so he was shocked when he managed to slip his sword in Saradon's careful defense of parries and blocks to make a sizeable slice in Saradon's arm.

Saradon stumbled back several paces to regain his composure, breathing hard and, though he would rather die than admit it, he was _frightened._

Westley let Saradon have that moment to recover. He desperately needed one too.

* * *

Elisabeth cautiously was stepping against the wall to her right, which was Tythe's left. She held her sword up and ready, and hardly chanced a peek at Will, who had copied her stance and was moving slowly up the center of the throne room, on Tythe's right. Tythe flicked his eyes back and forth, a permanently amused expression on his face. 

"You cannot defeat me." He growled, and raised his staff.

"Would you like to make a bet?" Will snapped.

Tythe chuckled. "We shall see."

Abruptly the ball on his staff swirled a glowing orange.

"Down!" Will hollered, at the exact instant that neon orange light streaked faster than a bullet towards Elisabeth. She dodged without hesitation, and the light hit the wall. It left a large, smoking hole in the wall.

Elisabeth stood as quickly as she had gone down and was just as ready for another attack as she had been before.

Tythe sneered. "Clever. But try to dodge this."

Will held his sword tight and watched Tythe and the ball on the end of the staff, which was suddenly pulsing with a menacing red glow. Will blinked, and this time light shot in two directions from the staff, though it was obvious the light's direction was less controlled. Elisabeth tumbled and rolled forward, easily missing the light.

Will moved a few steps to the side, getting an idea. He swung his sword at the light. His aim was dead-on, for just as the light hit his sword, he'd swung, and miraculously, the light made a loud _ping_ noise before spiraling back at Tythe.

Tythe gasped and had to dive to the floor to avoid it, and it was a very close call for him. There was a smoky streak across the back of his robes, revealing just how close Will had come to hitting the mage. He stood and snorted with anger.

"That was lucky for you. I am done with your games." He raised his staff and his hands like he was parting the Red Sea, and shouted some words in some other language. The ball on the end of the staff glowed a sickly yellow-green color, before a dragon-like monster shot from it. It darted straight for Will, who got the feeling his sword wouldn't be able to deflect this one.

Will turned around and as he dashed away from the misty creature gaining on him, he frantically thought of a plan that might just work. He ran for the wall.

The creature followed and Will was unaware that Tythe was now firing spells at Elisabeth, who was deflecting them back at Tythe just as Will had done. She didn't think she could hold out much longer, as Tythe was getting increasingly angry and using stronger and stronger spells. Elisabeth was tiring fast as hitting the spells was going from feeling like she was hitting tennis balls to bowling balls.

Will bolted hard and then stood with his back flat against the wall, facing the dragon. It veered towards him, opening its see-through jaws, and Will fought the very strong urge to run or duck. Not yet… not yet… not…

_NOW._

Will ducked and rolled away at the very last possible second. The jaws had been less than inches away from devouring him. The dragon exploded in a massive jet of air and light, knocking all in the room off their feet. Will covered his head as heat blasted over his him. He stood up a second later, looking blackened and singed from his close proximity to the failed spell. The spot on the wall where the dragon had hit was very black, hot, steaming, and reeked of ash.

Then,in less than seven seconds, the following took place.

Will exhaled with relief and retrieved his sword.

Tythe was on his feet again, and roared furiously. "ENOUGH!"

Will started running towards Tythe as the mage pointed his deadly white staff directly at Elisabeth.

"You will die first…" he said sinisterly and his lip lifted in a disgusted and wicked sneer.

Elisabeth held her sword with a white-knuckled grip and swallowed.

Will ran harder, and Tythe did not seem to see Will, as the mage's back was turned to the ruined dragon spell on the wall. The globe on the end of the staff glowed brilliantly green, radiating death.

"Avada Kedavr-"

Will was there and with a mighty yell and with one hard slice, he pulled all his strength into it, and chopped into the staff. Light from the started spell flashed from the staff at Elisabeth. She opened her mouth to call out and the light hit her. She collapsed to the floor.

Tythe reared back as though he'd been burned, dropping the two pieces of his ruined staff. The top half holding the globe hit the stage, ball first, with a mighty crash of glass, sending a terrible gust of smoke and magic shooting out everywhere, only to dissolve an instant later.

Will swung his sword again in a magnificent and strong arc the other way as the smoke and light was exploding, catching the mage off guard, who was clutching his hands in agony. The sword went exactly where it was supposed to.

Tythe gasped in pain not related to his hands and crumpled to the floor. A pool of blood slowly began to form as Will let all his breath out.

"We did it." he whispered, oblivious to the renewed sword-clanging now coming from the very back of – or front, as it was to everyone outside – the throne room. He looked up with a small triumphant smile from Tythe's unmoving form to where Elisabeth had last been standing. "We…"

She was no longer there.

"Elisabeth?"

That's when he saw her and felt suddenly colder than ice.

She was laying several feet away from where he'd last seen her, in an unnatural face-down position, motionless, her hair splayed across her shoulder and neck.

"No, Elisabeth…" Will whipped over to her, throwing his sword off to the side somewhere. "No, please no!" He gently turned her onto her side, severely unnerved by the chilled feeling he felt when he touched her arm. Her face was whiter than white.

"Please… no… Elisabeth, wake up." Will shook her fruitlessly, knowing deep down there was no hope. She was gone. Dead. Murdered by the mage, while Will had been saving himself.

Hot, shamed, hurt, angry tears spilled onto his sweat glazed cheeks. A million different emotions scoured through him like fire, and yet somehow there was this awful block of ice, deep in the pit of his stomach refusing to melt or move. Will cradled Elisabeth close to his chest and, completely forgetting everything else but his lost love, began to cry.

"No, Elisabeth… come back… _please_ come back… I love you… _Elisabeth, I love you…_"

* * *

**A/n:** Well? WELL? Quick! Review me! Tell me what you thought! I must know! Lol. :D

And, as promised, the recipe for the Ice-Box Cake (from my mom, who said its written on the side of the Chocolate Wafer Box).

Coolwhip Choclate Wafers Log (aka, The Most Delcious Ice-Box Cake)

Prep: 10 mins plus refrigeration

Ingredients:

1 pkg. (200 g) mr christie's chocolate wafers

Fresh whip cream, that u whip urself, from dairy section in grocery store

1. Spread wafer with whip cream. Stack wafers in groups of 6. Place stacks end to end on plastic wrap so they form a roll, pressing together lightly.

2. Frost top and sides with remaining whipped topping .

3. Wrap and refridgerate for about 4 hours so the wafers become soft. (For wrapping, my mom sticks tootpick in it to hold the saran wrap away from the whip cream).

4. Cut in diagonal slices and serve.


	17. Chapter 17 The End of the Final Battle

**A/n:** Woo! Another new chapter. This is the SECOND LAST chapter, everybody! And it's pretty long. :D This chapter is dedicated to **Kelsey Estel the TolkieNarnian** who first gave me the idea for last half of this chapter,and also to **Smithy**, as theyboth figured out what's happening next. You guys are too good. I have afew more things to say, but I'll add them at the end, as I'm betting you're all a little anxious to read what happens next. :D Enjoy (I liked this chapter alot!).

**Warning:** This chapter contains some blood and one minor swear (one which I debated putting in for a long time, b/c I really, reallydon't swear,and then saw that I couldn't do the one partright without).**

* * *

Chapter 17**

Chapter 17 

Westley and Saradon fought with equal angry intensity, never for a moment taking their eyes off the other, despite several flashes of different colored light from other areas of the room.

At one point, there was a bright burst of yellow-green light accompanied by a severe blast of air and magic that sent Westley flying in one direction and Saradon in the other. To Westley's advantage, he landed more on his back, causing him to lose his breath for moment or two, while Saradon hit the near wall with his hand and head at the same time. Westley jumped to his feet and chanced a glance at Will and Elisabeth.

Elisabeth was using her bedpost to wearily rebound brilliant balls of light back at Tythe. Will was running at the mage full speed, sword raised.

Although Saradon had been dazed by his crash into the wall, in the time it took Westley to regain his stance and look over at his friends, Saradon had also risen to his feet and was charging at Westley, thinking to catch his opponent off guard. No such luck, as Westley saw him coming out of the corner of his eye and returned his attention to the battle before him instantly.

There was a green-colored flare from the other side of the room, shortly followed by a pained yell and another, but lesser, blast of smoke and air. Though neither looked away, the wind that rushed past them blew them sideways enough to force them to take a few side-steps so as not to lose their balance. Westley was able to jab his sword through an opening in Saradon's strikes, though the attack was stopped before it could do anymore damage other than ripping a hole in Saradon's shirt.

Saradon chuckled dismissively and the pair fought on. They didn't seem to notice how quiet the other side of the room had become, as they were too focused on trying to cause the other to make a mistake.

Beads of sweat were rolling down Saradon's face as he smiled nastily. "I can't wait until your stamina gives out." He sneered.

Westley snorted. "I can go on like this forever. It's no trouble at all." Westley flashed Saradon a grin to confirm his words, though his arms were burning with the effort of every stroke, sweat glazed him also, and he knew the moment this battle was over, he was going to collapse with exhaustion. But he wasn't about to let Saradon know any of that.

Saradon shook his head. "It can't last much longer. You've fought quite a lot today. The moment you let yourself become slower I will have you." Saradon pulled every last bit of energy he had left and pushed harder on Westley, sure the end was near.

Westley, though he did his best not to show it, struggled to keep up. "It's good practice." He said, as lightly as possible, though the strain was unfortunately evident in his voice.

Saradon's unnerving smile widened. "Perhaps the grave diggers will be kind enough to bury you next to your wife."

Westley faltered abruptly as the image of Buttercup bleeding and dying flicked though his mind. It'd been the opportunity Saradon had been waiting and hoping for, especially after the last comment. In the instant Westley's sword wavered the wrong way, Saradon thrust through the opening his opponent had left. The desired effect was not _quite_ as Saradon had wished, but it was close enough.

Saradon's sword punctured hard to the right of Westley's heart, nearly in the center of the upper part of his chest. Westley gave a gasp of pain and surprise and stumbled backwards to regain his composure. Saradon was right there, not giving Westley a moment, and brought his elbow in a solid hit against Westley's jaw.

Westley stumbled back again, blinking stars out of his eyes and waved his sword defensively, trying to ignore the fiery pain from the bleeding sword wound.

Saradon gave a little laugh of triumph and kicked Westley hard in the stomach. Westley managed not to fall onto his back, but was only saved by the wall. He twisted away, trying to catch his breath as Saradon swung his sword harder and harder. Every time he met Westley's weak defense, he forced Westley to keep stepping back. A mere half-moment later, Westley had his back to a different wall, his sword holding Saradon's back from his neck by barely a few inches.

"Surrender, Westley." Saradon said, his furious eyes trained on Westley's.

Arms shaking, Westley said with all the contempt and hatred he could muster, "Never."

Saradon tensed angrily. "You are _beaten_! Give up!"

"Why? You wish to spare me?" Westley with effort.

"Of course not." Saradon said viciously and pressed harder on his sword. "But I want to hear you say it."

"I would sooner rot, you cowardly, pathetic excuse for a human being." Westley spat.

Saradon was turning an unpleasant red color and was now putting most of his body weight behind his sword, which Westley was barely keeping from touching and cutting his throat with his own sword.

"I fear nothing." Saradon's lip curled and the look in his eye would have scared anyone else literally to death. In a moment faster than one could blink or think a thought, Saradon's mind recalled a scene he'd been trying so long to forget…

* * *

"_Then again," Westley said. "Maybe I have the strength after all."_

_And very slowly, the Man In Black raised himself off the bed and lifted his sword, his eyes burning and electric like a live wire. A very icy trickle of fear slipped down Saradon's spine as he stared into the face of the man he'd watched die. The man he, himself, had killed. _

"_Drop… your… sword."

* * *

_

"You lie." Westley said calmly and scornfully. In that tiniest if moments, Westley had seen the stab of fear flit through Saradon's eyes and knew exactly what he had just thought of. "You fear the Man In Black."

And just as sudden and small as Westley's earlier falter had been, the force behind Saradon's sword wavered ever so slightly. Without thinking or hesitating, Westley used every possible bit of strength left in his weary body and shoved hard. Caught off guard, Saradon lurched backwards. Westley dodged the sword that came at him, ducked under Saradon's swinging arm, stood and stabbed Saradon hard in the back.

Saradon let out a howl of pain and his sword clattered to the ground.

Westley removed his sword and walked around the face Saradon. "I let you live once." He said, panting hard and looking down with extreme dislike at Saradon. "I vowed it wouldn't happen a second time if you ever crossed my path again."

Saradon made a gasping noise and stared murderously at Westley.

Westley stabbed Saradon in the stomach this time and didn't take his eyes off Saradon's. "How dare you speak about Buttercup the way you did." He dug his sword in further. "Good riddance." He removed his sword and took a few steps back.

Saradon coughed and choked, before turning a very unnatural color and falling over onto the floor. Westley watched, but with little satisfaction. He'd wanted to see this man die for so long, and it should have felt good to kill him. But Westley was no killer: he'd just taken another man's life, and somehow this was completely different than the guards or Vizzini.

Shaking and bleeding, Saradon said raspily, "I _hate_… y-you… _damn _you…"

Westley stared one more moment, his jaw clenched tight, before turning away to make sure Will and Elisabeth were alright.

* * *

Will held Elisabeth tight and the front of her outfit was fast becoming wet with his tears. How could he have let this happen? He'd always come for her and protected her… and now he failed. After all he'd been through just to save her from marrying someone else, and he hadn't the strength and agility to save her life this time… 

Westley walked over to Will, trembling like a leaf in the wind, looking extremely drained, and bleeding all down his front. Will should have been more concerned for his friend, but at that moment, all that mattered was that his beloved was dead.

"What's happened?" Westley sounded absolutely exhausted and as though breathing and standing were major chores.

It took more than a minute for Will to answer. When he did manage to speak, his words were quiet and thick with emotion. "The… mage. He… he k-killed her."

"What did he say before she…?" Westley asked quickly.

Will shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

"It might. What did the mage say?"

Will exhaled and shut his eyes. "I don't really remember right now. I'm sure you can understand."

Westley nodded absently. A second or two later, he said, "Let's go."

Will looked up at him disbelievingly. "What?"

"We have to go. Grab Elisabeth and let's go."

"In case you haven't noticed, the love of my life has just been murdered before my eyes. Don't you think I deserve a little time to – "

"I'm sorry if I'm coming off as dispassionate, here, Will." Westley interrupted in an urgent tone. "But we really need to go. We've just killed fifty-some men and the mage and the King. That labels us as 'bad guys who need to be arrested and likely hanged', which means we have to leave. _Now._"

Will opened his mouth to object, but saw his friend's point. He turned his eyes back down to the pale, still form of Elisabeth. "Please," he said pleadingly in a whisper. "Give me a moment."

"Look, you can have all the time in the world once we get out of the castle!" Westley said irritatedly. "So please pick her up and let's _get out of here!_"

Will was about to ask why he should be bringing his dead fiancé along, but Westley obviously sensed the question coming and answered it before Will had a chance to form a word.

"Because there's a good chance she's only mostly dead. Now _come on._" He gestured towards the door insistently.

"But – wait just a moment. _Mostly_ dead?"

"I'll explain on the way." Westley sounded quite frustrated. "_Please._ What part of 'now let's get _out_ of here' don't you understand, Mr. Turner?"

Very confused, oddly hopeful, and mostly (understandably) very upset, Will gently scooped up Elisabeth's limp form in his arms, and followed Westley out of the throne room.

The pair were able to move surprisingly quickly and quietly through the castle to the exit, seeing as how they'd already disposed of pretty well all the guards. The fact that no one followed the blood trail Westley was dripping with every step he took, was also a lucky stroke.

"Shouldn't you… do something about that?" Will asked at one point, nodding his chin at Westley's wound.

Westley waved his hand to dismiss Will's question. "I've had worse."

Will raised an eyebrow and shifted Elisabeth a little in his arms. She was quite heavy. "Worse?"

"Oh yes. I've had my shoulder pierced quite nastily by an R.O.U.S., and I, too, have been mostly dead before." Westley said matter-of-factly as if most people have been mostly dead at one point or another in their lifetime. With a backwards glance, he added, "It's really not that bad."

"Speaking of this… 'mostly dead'. What do you mean by 'mostly dead'? How can you tell? And how in the world is that better than being… well… _dead_ dead?"

The pair exited the castle, where a skittish Yellin was very cautiously returning to his post by the door. He gave a startled yelp upon seeing Westley walk past with another man carrying the King's very unhealthy looking bride-to-be in his arms.

"This job has far too many oddities." Yellin muttered and decided he would hand his resignation in at once.

In reference to Will's set of questions, Westley answered, "Miracle Max will be able to explain it better than I."

"Miracle Max?"

"Yes." Westley said no more, even if Will asked a question, which he shortly stopped doing since he was given no reply. "Now hurry up."

* * *

Inigo rapped his knuckles smartly on the door. There was no answer. He gave an aggravated sigh and banged on the door very loudly with his fist. 

"What, _what_ now?" A voice from inside shouted. "No peace, I tell ya. If you're that guy running around selling pocket watches, I already said I didn't want any of your garbage!"

The peephole in the door swung open at that moment, revealing a very wrinkled old man with a shock of white hair above his ears but not covering his head. Inigo smiled wryly.

"_You_ again? Geez, who's dead this time?" Miracle Max said with major annoyance but opened the door anyways.

"No one is dead." Inigo said. "But Buttercup will be if I cannot find her some help." As he said the last part, he helped a ghostly white Buttercup into the room.

"Oh my – set her on a chair!" Valerie, Max's wife, was in the room and immediately jumped up in a panic to get a chair for Buttercup who smiled weakly. "What's happened? Why is she bleeding?" And to Inigo, she added fiercely, "Inigo, you _promised_ you'd write! What's the matter with you?"

"Calm down, woman!" Max shouted. "Inigo, what the heck happened this time?"

"Alright. Let me explain." Inigo paused. "No, there is too much. Let me sum up." He grinned widely the moment the words were out of his mouth as he recalled saying the exact words to Westley once. As he proceeded to "sum up" the story for Max – who kept interrupting – and Valerie, Valerie took care of Buttercup's injury with a variety of delicious smelling balms and salves, and finally wrapping it in clean white bandages. When Inigo had finished speaking, he realized the "summed up" story turned out to be pretty well the whole story.

Almost right at that time, before Max could interrupt with several pointless questions or odd comments, there was a slow, weak-sounding knock at the door.

Max threw his arms up exasperatedly. "NOW what!" He hobbled over to the door and opened the peep hole. "Oh great. Come to join the rest, I presume." He opened the door to reveal Westley, looking positively on the verge of death, Will, looking beyond miserable, and Elisabeth in his arms, looking extremely unhealthy indeed.

"Westley!" Buttercup tried to jump out of her seat to help Westley stand, but Valerie was still wrapping her arm in bandage and yanked her back down in her seat. "What _happened_?"

Westley swayed dangerously.

"Catch him." Max said off-handedly as he stoked the fire in the large brick fireplace.

Inigo being the closest with a free hand, caught his friend before Westley fell to the floor.

Will shifted Elisabeth uncomfortably in his arms. "Er, may I set her somewhere? She's a bit…"

"Table, son." Max said over his shoulder as he rifled through his cupboards. He hadn't seemed to take a good look at the newcomers to find out what their problems were, but he also seemed to already know.

Will very gently laid Elisabeth down on the table near the center of the room while Inigo slowly eased Westley down into the armchair by Buttercup and Valerie. Will gazed at Elisabeth fondly, wishing with all his heart something could be done for her. That _he_ could do something for her. He sat dejectedly on the stool beside the table.

Max walked over to Elisabeth and studied her a moment. "Pretty." He mumbled and then began poking and prodding Elisabeth.

"Hey!" Will shot off the stool. "Leave her be!"

Max ignored him, but Inigo said, "It's alright. He knows what he's doing."

Will reluctantly sat down on the stool, quite unconvinced.

"Uh-huh. Eh-heh." Max murmured repeatedly. He looked up at Will and suddenly asked, "Do you the reason for living?"

"What?"

Inigo answered for him. "Same as last time."

Max rolled his eyes. "I shouldn't believe a word you say. Neither of them look crippled to me."

Will looked very confusedly back and forth between all in the room, who all seemed to be in on some private joke. "Am I missing something…?"

Inigo laughed and ignored Will's question. "No, he is not. And I've already avenged my father, so it's not that one either."

"She going to stop Humpe – er, that is, Saradon's wedding to this new princess he's got himself?"

"This _is_ the woman he thinks he's marrying!" Will said hotly.

"Alright! No need to get so touchy!" Max put his hands up defensively before heading over to rifle in his cupboards again.

"He" - Inigo indicated Will - "is her" - he gestured to Elisabeth – "true love."

Max shook his head. "You people and your 'true love'."

Valerie shot her husband a dirty look, but said nothing.

Will looked to Inigo for a clearer explanation on what conversation had just taken place.

"We'll explain later." Inigo said reassuringly.

Will nodded slowly and turned his eyes back to Elisabeth.

"Don't look so glum, pal." Max said cheerily, grinding several ingredients together in a bowl. "They don't call it a Miracle Pill for nothing!"

Valerie was finished with Buttercup and was now working quickly on Westley. "You've lost a lot of blood. Any particular reason why you decided to go hiking after you'd been stabbed?"

Westley half-smiled. "It's not my fault your hut is so bloody far from the castle."

Valerie chuckled and rubbed some red and purple cream on Westley's wound that smelled strongly of freshly picked raspberries.

Buttercup squeezed Westley's hand. "What happened after we left?"

Westley's face immediately darkened. "I can tell you details some other day, love. For now, let's just say it's over."

"He's gone?"

Westley nodded. "He's gone."

Buttercup exhaled with relief. Although she and Westley had always been far away and hidden from Humperdinck and his forces, she'd had a constant nagging worry about the threat he posed. That he could find them and ruin their lives like he almost did before. It was a deep, calming feeling to know he was dead, never to darken anyone's doorway ever again.

"What happened after _you_ left?" Westley asked. "I thought Inigo was going to take you to the medical facility."

Buttercup sighed with a small smile. "He didn't think I'd be able to make it that far, and frankly, neither did I. He remembered Max and Valerie helped him last time, so we made a detour into the Forest to come here."

"Good idea." Valerie said as she taped the bandage ends on Westley's chest.

Westley and Buttercup smiled and he squeezed her hand tightly. He was beyond happy to see her and know she was safe and fine after the day's ordeal.

About ten or so minutes later, Max had completed the Miracle Pill, chocolate coating and all ("To make it go down easier." Valerie reminded them). No had yet explained to Will what exactly this Miracle Pill was supposed to do, so finally he asked.

"What exactly is this Miracle Pill supposed to do?" He questioned.

"What do you think?" Max snorted. "They don't call it a Miracle Pill because it's pretty."

And with that, he opened Elisabeth's mouth and shoved the miracle pill in. Will opened his mouth to protest, when Elisabeth's eyes opened. Will was too shocked to move, speak or even blink. His mouth stayed open and his eyes were wide. His dead fiancé had just opened her eyes.

"Will!" Elisabeth yelled. "I can't mo- " She stopped and Will could see her eyes searching around the room, though her head didn't move. She could see Max and Inigo, but Will, Valerie, Westley and Buttercup were too far out of her line of vision. "Who are you?" She asked in trembling voice.

Max answered, "The guy who just brought you back to life."

"Where's Will? What's happened? Why can't I move?" Elisabeth demanded and was suddnely able to move her head a little.

Will managed to overcome his shock, which was replaced by pure relief and sheer joy. He was completely elated to see Elisabeth alive again. He rushed to her side. "Elisabeth!"

"Will! What happened to me?"

Will tried to explain, but his throat closed up. The image of her dead body was extremely fresh in his mind, as was the moment he struck down Tythe only to discover his love struck down by the mage. He took a breath to try again and Inigo, once again, was able to supply an explanation.

"From what Westley's just been telling us, you died. Westley killed Saradon, and then he and Will made it out of the castle to arrive here."

"I _what_?" Elisabeth balked and found she was able to lift her head.

"Yes, died. You heard right." Max supplied as he cleaned up the things he'd used to manufacture the Miracle Pill.  
"Will – "

Will nodded and grasped Elisabeth's hand tightly. "I was there."

Elisabeth seemed quite at a loss for what to say to this piece of news.

"Actually," Westley piped up. "To be more correct, Max, you should be saying that she was only mostly dead."

"Of course." Max agreed. "Lady, you were only _mostly_ dead."

Will dipped his head and said loudly, "Would someone _please_ explain what that _means_?"

"Yes, dear." Valerie smiled kindly. "'Mostly' dead is when one is almost but not quite dead, and can be revived, or, brought back to life by a miracle man or woman. It takes skill and the symptoms of being mostly dead are pretty well exactly the same as if you're all dead. If you're all dead, then you're completely dead, and the only thing to do is bury you."

"Say the word 'dead' a few more times." Max mumbled in annoyance and exited the room for a moment.

Valerie pointedly ignored her husband's comment.

"But how can you tell the difference then?" Elisabeth shifted her shoulders slightly and was quite relieved to find feeling slowly returning to her body.

"Well, a trained miracle man or woman can, of course." Valerie explained. "But for an untrained eye, there are things to watch for, like incomplete spells, improperly mixed poisons, and things like that."

"That reminds me." Westley piped up. "Will, can you try and remember what the mage said just before Elisabeth died? That will help explain how Elisabeth made it through."

Will nodded and thought hard. "He shouted some sort of spell. I didn't understand the words. Abra? No… Avra? Avra… Kedab… Avra…"

"Avada Kedavra?" Max put in as he reentered the room, drying his freshly washed hands on a tea towel.

"Yes, that sounds like it." Will confirmed.

"It would be. That's the killing curse." Max said darkly. "Almost nothing can stop it or reverse it. For it not to work, he was either a very, very poor mage or he was interrupted mid-spell."

"Come to think of it, yes. He didn't get the last bit out because I spilt his staff." said Will.

"That would do it." Valerie went about to clean up her things.

"There you go." Max tossed the tea towel over a chair and helped his wife clean up the room.

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**A/n: **There you are! Let me know what you think, and fill out a review. :D

Quick other notes: I did say the swear was minor. Yes, the Avada thing is Harry Potter. Yes, Smithy, I am Canadian. And I have now seen Dead Man's Chest twice. :D


	18. Chapter 18 All's Well That Ends Well

**A/n:** Hey everybody, welcome to the very last chapter. It is way shorter than one might expect, but I read it over and over, and there is truly nothing I feel I should add. Short, but I'm happy with it. Thank you truly, deeply, with every fibre of my being to _each_ and _every_ one of my reviewers. You guys **_all_** mean _so_ much to me, and your reviews have been so helpful and supportive. I can't name each and every one of you, but I would like to particularly give an extra wave and hug of appreciation to **williz**, **KelsE**, **Smithy**, **moony's number 1**, **Jedi Knight Bus**, **MontyPythonFan**, **Red Belle Cash**, and **lateBloomer04** for being my most faithful reviewers. You guys absolutely rock.

So it's taken me forever to finally finish this story, and overall (minus many typos and the occasional plot hole, lol) I'm pretty happy with it. I hope you guys liked reading it. :)

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**Chapter 18**

By the next day, Elisabeth had full mobility back in her body and Will was completely reassured by Valerie and Max that she would be just fine. Everyone took turns explaining the story about when Westley had been mostly dead, which turned about to be pretty well everything Buttercup had left out when she'd told Will her history with Westley.

When many other stories had been exchanged, Elisabeth and Will then told their story to Max and Valerie, with Elisabeth adding in her experiences aboard the cursed ship that Will had not added in his "history review" to Buttercup.

Around lunchtime, Will, Elisabeth, Buttercup, Inigo and Westley bid goodbye to Valerie and Max, promising to stay in touch and thanking them hundreds of times over for everything they had done. Westley managed to procure a horse and wagon, so traveling went far faster this time. They were careful who they talked to, however, and were even more careful to leave town quite unnoticed by all, knowing they were likely wanted for the murder of the King.

When they reached a small fishing village by the ocean, Inigo bid his farewells, as this was town where he was to meet back up with his crew on the ship _Revenge_. More thank-yous were heavily exchanged, along with very staunch promises of writing letters often.

Finally, the remaining four reached the grown-over dock outside the Fire Swamp, and were rather surprised to see the _Black Pearl_ was already there waiting for them. Jack swaggered his way down the ramp off the ship and grinned widely at them.

"I see all went well." He said.

Will smirked. "More or less. You're early."

Jack cocked his head. "I'm early if you're going by our pre-arranged date. But I arrive precisely when I mean to, eh, so really, I'm not early, but quite on time." He raised an eyebrow. "Savvy?"

Will chuckled. "Savvy."

Jack flashed the four another gleaming grin before strutting back up the ramp onto the _Pearl_.

Will hopped from the wagon and helped Elisabeth down after him. Westley and Buttercup dismounted next so they could also say their goodbyes.

"Thank you for everything." Will said quietly to Westley as Elisabeth and Buttercup hugged and shared a rather emotional goodbye, considering they'd hardly spent anytime together. "I could never have rescued her without your help."

"I would have not expected anything less from a man as noble as you, sir." Westley inclined his head respectfully. "And besides. I can't take all the credit. Inigo and Max, and of course Buttercup helped too. There's no way _I_ could have done it without _their_ help."

Will smiled. "True."

"I feel completely redundant saying this again today," Westley began. "But, write often. Keep in touch."

"You also."

Will and Westley shook hands firmly before patting each other on the back in a brotherly hug.

Westley said goodbye to Elisabeth as Will bid farewell to Buttercup.

All goodbyes out of the way, Will and Elisabeth joined Jack on the deck of the _Pearl_ and waved to their friends on Florin's shore. They kept waving until the wagon was obscured by trees, and then the pair headed to the cabin that was Will's.

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"Well, that was quite eventful, don't you think?" Westley commented as he steered the horses down the trail in the direction of his and Buttercup's home.

"Oh, quite." Buttercup nodded and slipped her arm around Westley's. "I liked meeting them, but let's not do anything of that sort for a long time, alright?"

"Oh no, definitely not." Westley agreed. "At least, not until my chest is better."

Buttercup laughed and snuggled closer to her husband as the wagon rumbled along the dirt path and the sun sank lower towards the horizon. When Buttercup leaned over to kiss Westley, she had no way of knowing that Elisabeth was doing the very same thing, miles away.

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Will and Elisabeth pulled out of the kiss.

"I knew you would come for me." Elisabeth whispered.

"You did?"

Elisabeth hesitated ever so slightly, thinking of the first while that she'd been locked in the tower, completely miserable and without hope. Maybe someday she would tell Will about that, but not now. "Yes." She said.

Will smiled. "I'm glad."

They shared another kiss.

"Will?"

"Yes?"

"The moment we get back to Port Royal and make sure my father hasn't died from stress," said Elisabeth with an amused half-smile. "We should get married."

"Right away, Miss Swann." Will tried to sound serious and failed.

Elisabeth giggled and couldn't resist saying, "How many more times must I ask you to call me Elisabeth?"

Will bit back a laugh and solemnly replied, "At least once more, Miss Swann. As always."

**THE END**

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**A/n: **Well, there you have it. The conclusion of **_Saradon's Revenge_**. What did you guys think? Leave me a review, you know how much I love them by now. ;)

BTW, before anyone asks! I **_MIGHT_** someday do a sequel. I do have a few random ideas tossing about in my head. **HOWEVER**, it will NOT come for a VERY long time. I just started college yesterday - which is already crazy - and am trying very hard to totally wrap up all my ongoing stories on FF before taking a break. So let me know in your review if you want me to get a hold of you when and if I do a sequel. Also, when I am done my break, I will going through my stories and editing them up a bit. So for those of you who read stories more than once, watch for that.

I think that was all I needed to say. So, until someday soon: Farewell, and THANK YOU again and again.


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